Last One Standing
by SamanthaRose
Summary: The daughter of an Alaskan hunter wakes up on the tarmac of the Kelowna Airport next to the burning wreckage of the plane that her family... Rated M for language, gore and sexual content
1. Crash Landing

What was left of the plane was burning. What was left of her brother, her father, burned with it. The reason they had come here became obsolete, for now she knew coming here at all was a terrible error. That error had cost what was left of her family their lives.

Pulling her feet up underneath her, Portia was careful not to move too quickly. For one, the infected seemed to be attracted to light and movement that wasn't their own, and there was no indication that they could smell or sense her in any particularly inhuman way just yet, leaving her to gather her bearings to the best of her abilities.

As she scanned the runway with her green eyes, she could see many other shuffling, slowly moving forms, as well as people laying on the ground. From here, Portia couldn't tell if they were living or dead, or human or infected, but she kept her distance either way.

Moving back towards the wreckage of the plane she had arrived in, Portia scavenged for her belongings, for the guns her father had packed and the rations that were in a blue bag on the seat behind her. Hopefully, these items hadn't been burned up along with most of the plane, but it would have been asking too much to find them in one piece here.

She found the charred strap of the blue bag, but one of the rifles had fallen under a piece of metal and was relatively unscathed by the flames, her trembling hands lifting it as she quickly glanced around the immediate area once again.

There was no way she could possibly be the last person here alive, and Portia clung to that as she moved up the tarmac towards the airport, trying to keep her breathing in check and keep her head on straight. If she started to panic, that would be it for her. Those things would be on her and tearing her apart like a pack of wolves unable to catch the caribou.

"I'm used to living in areas of low population, but this is ridiculous." Portia muttered to herself, the sound of deep, angry growling nearby stopping her in her steps. She was near some luggage carts now, and an overturned bus that must have been transporting people to and from the airport, the ground trembling slightly as is something very large was moving behind it.

She held her breath for a few seconds, taking one step backwards…

Then a face appeared from behind the luggage cart, a terribly small head attached to a horribly huge body, the bottom jaw having been ripped away and small, dim, beady eyes staring in her direction greedily. With another growl, it moved out of sight again quickly, making its way away from the burning wreckage nearby and around the toppled bus…

Portia was very sure she wasn't going to do a thing to this creature with the gun she was holding even if she had the bullets to shoot it with, a scream rising up in her throat as the thing came round the bus and hurtled towards her, using its huge arms to propel itself.

Someone behind her put a hand over her mouth, a hoarse voice suddenly hissing near her ear, the strength in her legs threatening to give out on her.

"Don't scream."

The pressure of the hand was gone and the owner of the voice suddenly moved around and came to a sliding stop in front of her. She could see a shaved head with the stubble of dark hair, a heavier set frame that may or may not have been simply muscle, the man clad in a hooded sweatshirt that seemed a few sizes too big, the arms cut off at the elbows, a pair of ripped denim pants and walking boots.

He was lucky if he weighed even a third of what the creature moving towards them did, but he stood his ground, going so far as to stretch his arms out to either side in an attempt to protect her.

The thing that moved towards them faltered a few times in its steps, feet beginning to scramble for a way to stop, something like a frightened whimper escaping its throat when it got close enough to see him.

Portia could see the man's face split into a smile as he watched the thing's reaction, its huge figure lumbering backwards as a frightened cry escaped it. It ran back the way it had come, disappearing behind some luggage, and it was some time before the ground stopped shaking from its steps.

Only when it did stop shaking did the man turn around to face her, his face a friendly one, brown eyes turning up with the smile that he now wore.

"Close one. Good thing I woke up when I did." Portia listened to him speaking, taking in the wound on the side of his head and the way one side of his sweatshirt was awash with blood. "Oh, don't worry about that. Took some debris to the head, but I'm alive, and I can still walk. If I hadn't come out of it soon enough, you would have been a smear on the tarmac, miss."

"W-w-what was that th-th-thing?" Portia finally stammered, the strength in her legs returning enough for her to stand up straight and stagger a step towards him.

"Tank." He said simply, nodding and rubbing at the dark stubble on his chin.

"A-a-and h-how-"

"How did I stop it? Easy! I'm a lot scarier than it is, trust me. C'mon, walk with me, I'll get you to a safe room." He offered her his hand, still smiling. "I'm Chris, by the way. Short for Christopher, so any fancy nicknames you feel like giving me, you go right ahead. Were you in that plane that crashed, miss?"

"Y-yeah. It's Portia." She took his hand, feeling him squeeze hers firmly and fondly as he shook it. "My dad and brother and I came to see why we had lost touch with my mother. We live in Alaska… we lived in Alaska."

Her voice drew off quietly and Chris' expression changed to one of regret.

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? It's not like you're the one that made the plane crash." Portia remarked, Chris shrugging.

"I'm sorry anyway. It's not easy losing family." He replied, Portia giving him a curious look. "Look around you, Portia… there's hardly anyone left here that's not infected. Now c'mon, we can't stand on the tarmac like a bunch of idiots waiting for those things to come and get us. They will avoid me for a time, but even that has its limits. These things seem rather resistant to fear for the most part."

"R-right. I'll stick close, just in case. I… I don't have any ammo."

"You have a gun, that's what counts!" Chris said cheerfully, heading towards the airport again. Portia followed quietly behind him, staring around her at everything that littered the airport grounds. From what she could see from here, most of the windows had been smashed, most of the doors were broken off, but it appeared there was still power inside and that was what mattered. "I sure hope we find a safe room with air conditioning."

"Air conditioning?" Portia asked in disbelief, Chris grinning over his shoulder at her and laughing.

"Welcome to the Okanagan Valley, Portia. It's gonna get REALLY hot today, we're in the middle of summer after all. At least thirty five degrees Celsius… what's the conversion for that?"

"I-I'm not sure." Portia looked up towards the airport roof, drawing to a stop with one hand darting out to grab the back of Chris' shirt. He blinked in confusion, then looked up to see where she was looking, his brows knitting slightly.

"Ah. Yeah… best to get inside. They don't like enclosed spaces, but if that one does decided to follow us, they're dead quiet and we'll never hear it coming. Let's hope someone has bullets for that thing." Chris explained softly, taking her arm and leading her in through one of the broken doors. He glanced around, picking up the fallen leg of a chair and testing its weight before curling his nose. He then picked up a fallen tool kit and opened it, choosing a small crowbar and shrugging. "I guess I'll settle for this for now, till we find something bigger."

As he spoke, Chris moved towards one of the infected shuffling nearby, one with his back turned, the crowbar striking the infected's head and sending it to the floor with a muffled groan. Portia closed her eyes briefly, knowing it was probably for the best, but she had never seen someone kill another living person before.

"Don't do that. If you let down your guard, even for a second, they'll get you. I'll try to condition you as much as I can before we get you to the safe room. Maybe you'll be able to find enough food and stuff on the way to hole up in there and wait for another survivor." Chris' hands were on her arms, warm and alive, but Portia didn't feel particularly comforted by his words.

"Does that mean you're not coming with me? You're gonna leave me in the safe room and be on your merry way?" She asked, not intending for her voice to sound so accusing.

Chris looked at her with a fond, friendly smile, shaking his head ever so slightly. "I can't. Once we reach the safe room, you'll be safe from even me. See… I'm infected." He moved one hand to scratch at a bite mark on his neck, one that Portia hadn't noticed in the dim light outside.

"You're… you're like them?" She whispered in shock, Chris letting out another laugh.

"Nothing like them. I'm something far worse, but that's only when I'm turning. If we get you to the safe room before that, you'll never have to witness that messy business. I'd love to keep travelling with you, Portia, I hate leaving lambs like yourself alone in the hateful world, but… I'd rather not have to hurt you later."

They continued on in relative silence after that, Portia glancing over her shoulder every so often to see if the thing she had spotted on the roof was following them. It had looked like a person, same as the rest of them other than the Tank had, but she was able to see the glowing red eyes under the hood it was wearing and its hands…

Its hands were bigger than a persons hands normally would be, fingers longer, curved into claws like blades.

After some time, they reached the area of the gift shops and restaurants, Chris drawing her to a stop again and breathing in the air slowly.

"Hm… not good." He murmured. "There's a lot of them outside, and we need to get out there to get to the safe room."

"Where exactly IS the safe room?" Portia asked nervously, Chris shooting her a sheepish glance.

"At the university, actually. But we can borrow one of those luggage cart things outside to get there. Most of them have plenty of gas and they move quickly enough, not to mention they're pretty quiet. The infected don't like loud, high pitched noises, you see."

"That's why you told me not to scream." Portia murmured, her face now holding an expression of understanding. Chris nodded in reply, taking in a slow breath.

"I can't fend them all off with the crowbar… I'm going to have to do this a different way. Take cover behind the counter." He pointed to the reception counter just behind them, Portia getting a bad feeling about hiding behind it alone with an empty gun. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna leave you. I just don't want the blast to hurt you, that's all."

"B-blast?"

"Yep." Chris laughed again. "Don't worry, Portia… there's a lot to learn, but we'll have you taught up in no time!" He pulled a tube like thing off his belt, flipping a switch on the side and hurling it out the doors towards the crowd of infected outside.

The tube began emitting a beeping noise, high pitched and almost obnoxious, the infected changing immediately from shuffling, stupid drones to slavering, screaming monsters, racing towards the source of the noise. As they gathered around it, they began tearing at one another, shreiking and biting and attacking each other furiously…

Portia was hauled behind the counter and forced to duck down, so she didn't see what happened next, flinching when an explosion rocked the ground and the building around them, shattering whatever windows were still left intact in the cars outside.

After a few seconds, Chris popped up to check out the damage, Portia remaining crouched down a moment longer to gather her wits about herself.

"Holy shit." She breathed, putting her hands over her head. "Holy shit, this is like… Dawn of the Dead meets 28 Days Later. Those things… they're fast!"

"Fast AND strong, which goes against every rule in every video game EVER. If you're fast, you're supposed to be a weenie, easy to kill if you can be hit. These things take a few shots before they go down, unless you're using piercing rounds or you hit them in the head. Same as in the movies! Now, up you get, it's safe to move." Chris had his hands on her shoulders again, drawing her up to her feet and brushing her off in a friendly manner. "We'll stop in for something to eat over there in the lobby before we head out. It's best to have food with us for the journey."

"You're so calm… how can you be so calm?!" Portia cried, Chris hushing her and looking around in alarm.

"I'm so calm because I know I can take them. I've got nothing to be afraid of, in all honesty… it's you I'm worried about, alright?" He explained. "Now, c'mon. It's best I don't get hungry, it makes the changes happen sooner."

…

…

…

Author's Note!!

Haha, a fanfic set in the place where I live! That's right, Kelowna B.C. in the sunny Okanagan Valley. Characters are just original ones I thought up for now, though I have put out a call among some of the gaming/anime fans on a forum I'm part of for a convention we're trying to put together here. I'm hoping some of them will offer up characters for cameos and what have you!

If not, then I've got other characters in mind!

Now for something completely different… I have created my own infected types, possibly inspired to do so by the brilliant and completely mad Chibi Sama…

Here's the first, who made a brief appearance here!

**Infected Type: Reaper**

**Completely hairless and ghostly pale. Smaller, like a Hunter, also usually hooded. Glowing red eyes and long fingers with wickedly long and curved claws, giving hands a 'scythe-like' appearance. Utterly silent. **

Also, for those who have been patiently waiting for updates on my other L4D stories, Mutation and How Does it Feel?

Don't fret! I've got two chapters of Mutation coming, one of them just needs to be typed out and the other has been sent away to my beta for reading and should be back soon. We're nearing the end of both stories, so I needed something to tide me over. That's why this story was born!


	2. Out of Reach

When she dropped through the broken skylight to the sun warmed, glass peppered carpet below, she didn't make a sound. Her first thought upon approaching the door to their den was that the Witch who often kept guard for them was nowhere to be heard or seen.

That meant her brother was in.

The room beyond the door was kept darkened for their convenience, sleeping away the daytime hours. It was much easier to hunt at night, hooded and aided by the shadows, the sun outside being far too hot and far too harsh for them and their ghostly white skin and glowing red eyes.

With the grace of a cat, she moved to the doorway, claws sheathing as she put one hand on the door frame, the soft scraping noise drawing the gaze of two more pairs of eyes. As she entered, she put her hand gently on the head of the Witch near the door, who let out a soft croon and resumed her contemplation of the ruined carpet.

Her brother had managed to tidy the place up after last night, though there was little either of them could have done about the strips of wall paper torn off and the gouges in the carpet and floor. He was perched on the pile of blankets and cushions that was their nest, watching her approach with a wary expression.

As she drew to a stop before him, glowing eyes taking in his wounded features, the Witch let out a mournful moan and began rocking in place, her knife like claws digging more gouges in the floor. It was almost as if she could feel the tension in the air between the two. And it was rightful tension…

Their den was in such a state because the sister had won the fight of dominance last night. She had won and cast the brother out, into Crusher's territory, to fend for himself, but she knew full well he would have crawled back to lick his wounds and beg her forgiveness for being weak.

A long moment passed as they stared at each other, then she pushed her hood back from her hairless white head and collapsed into the pile of cushions with a muffled 'huff.' He relaxed a little beside her, leaning back against the pillows himself, both of them not uttering a sound as he tended to his wounds.

Light from a part in the dark curtains over their window reflected off of his head, catching her eye, so she rolled to her feet again and moved to the window. Pressing her face against the dark curtain to see through it, she ignored the heat against her face and watched what was happening outside.

The newest intruder and the Glutton were together in his little motor car. He was probably taking her to the safe room, as he did with many, many others. The Glutton was kind… at least this way he was kind. In this way, he shared food and helped intruders to get out of their territory without making trouble.

When the Glutton turned, he didn't share anything. Howling and shrieking and spitting, he would sooner kill her than share with her. But right now, he was leading another human into Crusher's territory. It was a vast piece of land, but there was still a chance they might encounter the beast.

A chance for free food, easy food.

Turning her glowing eyes back to her brother, their gazes met and held. The Witch watched them, letting out another moan before resuming her rocking…

And the twins reached an utterly silent understanding, the shock and smug triumph in the brother's eyes making the sister raise an eyebrow.

Claws unsheathing, she gave him a reason to stop smiling and something to remember her by, leaving him bleeding on the floor as she moved away.

He would survive, but she would love to see him try and lick THAT wound clean. It served him right for thinking her absence gave him complete control over their place and their horde. She was still the alpha, he had lost that fight… she was simply lending him leadership for the time being while she was out hunting. If he forgot his place, she would end him, the same way she would end any other. Being her twin was a privilege… she wouldn't stand for anymore weakness on his behalf.

…

…

…

As they navigated the maze of abandoned cars on the way to the university, Chris watched Portia out of the corner of his eye. She had pulled a hair tie out of her pocket, sticking it in her mouth while she gathered her impossibly curly dirty blond hair into one fist, managing to wrestle it back into a ponytail and out of her face. There was a sheen of sweat on her forehead already, the button down shirt she wore over a white tank top probably doing nothing to help her situation.

He found himself thinking what it was like in Alaska, where she had gone to school, who her friends had been. He wondered if she were the type of girl the boys all followed about, thought about at night and dreamed of asking to the prom. He wondered if she even knew how intense her green eyes really were, her gaze making him snap back to attention and move the cart around one half of a bus that was burning.

The bus looked as if it had been torn in half, and considering where they were, Chris felt the need to stop the cart and ask for silence for a moment so he could listen.

Portia didn't ask questions out loud, though her expression was practically begging him to tell her what was going on. Slowly, Chris held up a hand and nodded, seating himself again and starting up the cart.

"Sorry. There's only one thing that can tear a bus apart that lives around here." He said, Portia frowning ever so slightly.

"A Tank?"

"Close, but not quite." Chris chuckled, rubbing one hand over his shaved hair. "He's much bigger than a Tank, and a lot meaner. He also has issues going AROUND things. If he's on the warpath and something is in his way? He just barrels right through it. Doesn't matter what it is, as you can see."

"Great. And you're saying it lives around here? Should we be out here?" Her voice didn't hold the same note of suspicion most of them did at this point. Most of them would be questioning his motives and whether or not he was letting the infection get the better of him. Or worse yet, questioning whether or not he really was infected at all.

The latter question got him more riled up than any other. If any of the ignorant ones had a clue what he went through when-

Chris took in a deep breath, a dark expression crossing his face that drew Portia's gaze once more, the girl murmuring another soft question that was lost in the sound of his blood rushing in his ears.

"We need to get you to the safe room." His voice was deeper than he would have liked it to be, so he pressed the gas pedal to the floor, Portia grabbing the dash with one hand as a gasp escaped her. Chris glanced down at her hand briefly, the fact that she didn't have her nails done the way all the women around here did somewhat of a comfort to him.

Portia seemed the type of girl that would have laughed at him in highschool for being out of shape or not being good looking enough. She seemed the type of girl that was incredibly smart and talented and so far out of his reach it didn't even seem worth it to dream.

Portia right now was very concerned about him. Not about her own safety being with him. About him… his state of mind, his health…

Him.

The hunger and rage died down in him enough that he stopped moving quite as quickly, looking over at her with a gentle smile.

"Sorry."

"You keep apologizing, Chris. Seriously, I thought that was just one of those funny myths Americans tell about Canadians. Are you REALLY that nice?" She asked with a laugh, Chris' face splitting into a wide grin.

"Guess I am! But seriously… almost lost it there. I have to get you to the safe room before I actually do, it wouldn't be good if you lost your escort out here." He gripped the wheel till his knuckles were white, trying not to think about it.

His thoughts were unpleasantly interrupted by the thunderous growl that ripped through the air nearby, a car sailing gracefully over them and smashing into the side of a semi-truck. A dark shape leapt from the back of the truck just in time, leaping up and into the bed of a pick-up and ducking down out of sight.

A jolt ran through Chris when he realized it was the same Reaper that had been watching them the day before… she had obviously come to scavenge off of Crusher's kills, which was something they were prone to do these days, so close to the monster.

Crusher himself was responsible for the car tossing, but as Chris brought the cart around another large truck, he saw that the beast wasn't aiming for them.

Surrounded by a pack of six or seven common infected, Crusher was in a frenzy, swinging huge fists here and there to try and pin them or kill them. He was half again as wide as a Tank, his arms seeming far too long and his legs too short. He was completely bald, his bottom jaw jutting out and his teeth jutting upwards, wickedly curved. His skin was a bronzed color from the sun, his small beady eyes moving quick to try and track the movements of the common that plagued him.

These weren't ordinary common infected, either. They barked to one another as they moved, their movements carefully calculated and lacking the shuffling, weaving and bobbing of the common that threw themselves in harms way because they didn't know any better. These were Sprinters, but goodness only knew why they would do such a thing.

Crusher wasn't to be trifled with.

At least the Sprinters were offering them a distraction. Their only worry now was if Crusher decided they were a more interesting target. The university was close enough that Chris felt confident they would reach the heavily protected safe room inside.

"She better move." He muttered, Portia craning her neck to look behind them as they passed the fighting infected. One of the Sprinters let out a yelp and went silent, the others beginning to go into a frenzy. Crusher let out pained cries as several pairs of sharp teeth sunk into his flesh, the Sprinters launching themselves at him.

"She who?" Portia cried, looking at him with wide eyes, clutching her empty gun for dear life.

"She, the Reaper we saw yesterday. She's hiding back there and she's been in Crusher's territory before. He hates the Reapers because they take the kills he makes. Scavengers… like coyotes, or vultures." Chris grimaced. "That Reaper could have killed us easily and didn't. I would hate for her to get crushed."

"I guess…" Portia paused, blinking at him. "I guess you're right."

"Either that or you guess it would take one infected to pity another, huh?" Chris smiled at her and she shook her head, though color crept into her cheeks.

"I'm new to this whole infected thing. I feel sorry for all of them, in all honesty. Especially big mindless ones like Crusher." She replied, Chris letting out a short laugh.

"Don't fool yourself, beautiful." When Portia raised an eyebrow at him, he grinned and continued. "Crusher's far from mindless, trust me. He's far smarter than the other Tanks… and he's not afraid of me in the least."

They lurched to a stop in front of the University, Chris hopping out and moving around to help Portia, taking her hand firmly before leading her to the door.

"Safe room is inside. Just gimme a second to-"

Chris' words were cut short when a scream preceded a Hunter leaping out of nowhere to land heavily on Portia, driving the girl to the ground as it raised its claws to attack. Staggering back from the force of its landing, Chris let out a sharp yell, hurrying forward again to seize it by the arm and yank it off.

Portia began screaming, covering her head with her arms, the high pitched sound causing a great noise to rise up from inside the building.

"Son of a bitch." Chris hissed, punching the Hunter in the head a few times until it let out a weak grunt and fell silent, then discarding the body. He reached down to haul Portia to her feet, looking at her with a pained expression. "I told you not to scream."

Portia was now bordering on hysterical, and had miraculously kept her grip on the gun. Chris only hoped she didn't lose herself completely in the battle to come… the horde she had attracted streamed out of a hallway ahead of them, a mass of gibbering, drooling lunatics, all of them throwing themselves at the door in an attempt to get to the people standing outside.

"Chris!" Portia shouted, the infected man's head snapping to the side to look at her just as the Reaper dropped down beside her, seizing the back of her shirt and hauling her away into the bushes.

Chris let her go. They had spared the Reaper this time around, she was repaying the favor. Chris could smell her, and she wasn't hungry enough to try and kill an armed human by herself. Reapers had to rely on those claws of theirs and were hardly stronger than a normal human, and this female was small in comparison to other Reapers.

Besides…

The Reapers were far more afraid of him than even the Tanks were.

"I'm sorry Portia! Don't worry! I'll get you to safety!" He shouted just as the doors crashed open and the flood of infected rushed out. His howls of pain were lost in their mad screaming, his last thought being one of hope…

He hoped Portia was far enough away that she didn't have to witness what was about to happen.

...

...

...

Author's Note!!

So, here's chapter two, where we get to learn more about some of the infected and get an inside view in a day in the life of a Reaper! I have to admit that I'm very VERY happy with how they turned out and I can't wait to continue.

And we've had a chance to meet Crusher, the mean Tank variety, one of a kind and mad as hell from what you can see. That brings us to our second special infected! But they're not really special infected in the same sense that a Smoker or a Hunter would be a special infected, more like the upcoming Mudmen and clown infected.

**Infected Type: Sprinters**

**Common infected that communicate through barking noises. Slightly more swift than normal infected, they travel in packs and work together to take down prey. **


	3. Safe Room

Portia's entire being screamed in terror as the strong hand that wrapped around her shoulders dragged her backwards though the trees. She watched the horde that had rushed them fade away in the distance, the screeching sound of metal suddenly bringing her back to her senses. Whatever it was that had her was opening the back of a semi-truck, and before she could utter a word of protest, she was shoved inside.

Landing hard on the ground, Portia scrambled up to her feet and turned to stare, wondering why it was suddenly so cold. The small frame of the Reaper appeared in the open trailer, the infected looking Portia directly in the eye before turning to close the door behind her, plunging them both into cool darkness.

Portia's eyes couldn't adjust to this… There was no light at all, nothing to see other shapes against, nothing but the glowing red of the Reaper's eyes. The Reaper was fumbling around in the darkness for something, a strange metallic sound followed by a sharp click issuing forth before the entire trailer was bathed in light.

Portia blinked in the sudden harshness, rubbing her arms as she looked around. A refrigerated truck… brilliant. But why had the Reaper dragged her in here? Why not just kill her?

Before Portia could ask, however, the infected woman began shuffling around the truck, leaning down to peer at boxes, occasionally tearing one or two open with very normal looking hands. When there was some tape or something she couldn't get through, she extended those razor sharp claws ever so slightly and sliced through it, finally finding what she was looking for with a sharp intake of breath.

"You're completely uninterested in me." Portia remarked, shivering ever so slightly as she watched the Reaper move to a corner with food in hand, crouching down to eat it. "Ugh… I guess that's another part of being infected."

This truck had obviously been on its way to deliver food to the University, the thing that the Reaper was now eating looking like beef in one form or another. She didn't tear into it the way a zombie was supposed to however, being almost dainty in her task, and while Portia was intrigued by this behavior, she turned her face away.

Watching someone eat raw meat wasn't on her to-do list, that was for sure.

At least the Reaper wasn't going to eat her. The sounds from outside persisted for some time, Portia eventually crouching down in her own corner of the truck, breath frosting the air as she waited for the chance to be able to leave. Chris was still out there, a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach that he had been hurt by the horde she had called gnawing at her.

She was drawn from her reverie by the Reaper's approach, her face paling and her stomach turning over when the infected woman held one hand out, bloodied by the meat she was carrying.

"I…um… thanks, but I don't really… eat that sort of thing." Portia murmured, the Reaper frowning at her. It was disturbing how utterly soundless she was, not even a growl escaping her throat, but instead of attacking as Portia anticipated, she moved back to the boxes and started peering through them again, nose curling as she knocked one over.

Both of them froze when there was a banging sound on the back door, not quite a knock but not quite the frenzied flailing of an angry infected and definitely not heavy enough to be Crusher. The Reaper crouched down where she was standing, Portia standing up and pressing herself further into the corner, swallowing a few times.

Several pairs of feet scurried over the top of the truck, followed by a barking noise, and Portia heard the Reaper draw in a breath slowly and let it out as a hiss, the first sound the woman had made.

The footsteps moved back and forth a few times, Portia rubbing her arms slowly as she looked around. "That's incredibly disconcerting." She whispered, the Reaper raising a hairless eyebrow at her and putting a finger to her stained lips.

A few more barks, then a series of yelps and the footsteps all moved away with a frantic air, something heavy suddenly hitting the back door of the truck and causing it to rock, Portia clapping a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. The Reaper's eyes were wide, darting around the enclosed space as if searching for an exit, the two women huddling into the corner together.

A few tense minutes later, the door of the truck began opening, Portia able to feel the Reaper tense next to her, those wicked claws unsheathing completely as she drew herself into a defensive position.

She relaxed when Chris staggered into view, clothing, skin and hair soaked in blood, his breath heavy and his eyes streaming tears. He collapsed against the truck, Portia crying out his name and hurrying towards him, the Reaper remaining where she was.

"Oh God, what happened to you?" Portia gasped, scared to touch Chris at first both because she didn't want blood on her and she wasn't sure he was himself.

"H-horde's dealt with. C-c'mon, we have to get you inside before… before Crusher comes…" Chris grasped at her with shaking hands, pulling her down from the truck and trying to lead her towards the University. "Y-you're so cold…"

"That truck is cold, that's why. What about her?" Portia glanced back at the Reaper, who had already disappeared from view, and Chris offered her a weak laugh.

"She can take care of herself. She knows there's danger and she's gonna get away from here now. Though, I guess it's good she didn't eat you. I suppose she sees you less like prey and more like a strong pack member now." He explained, every step he took making him shake.

"You're such a mess, Chris." Portia whispered, the man waving his hand dismissively at her.

"This is n-nothing. Trust me, I'm f-fine. J-just get to the s-safe room."

Portia supported him as they made their way over the corpse strewn ground, into the University and in the direction Chris indicated, the man's brown eyes almost darker now than they had been before. Portia tried to block out the sight of all the blood and death around her, tried her best to convince herself that Chris couldn't possibly have done all this himself.

"Down that hall, straight ahead." Chris pointed. "You go… the guy I dropped off yesterday has express instructions to shoot anything that comes down there that isn't human. If he's still there, he'll shoot anything that tries to get you."

"Can't you come with-"

"No!" The snarl made Portia yelp, Chris' face contorting with regret. "I can't, Portia. Now GO! Go and stay safe! If you stay out here, you could get hurt! Please go!"

Turning, Portia hurried down the hallway towards a heavy steel door painted red, tears stinging her eyes. Everything in this strange place was uncertain… she didn't know if her friends were really enemies or if her enemies were really friends. Saved by the Reaper, driven away by the only other human she had met, she felt as if she were all alone…

The door swung open to admit her, and she didn't hesitate to hurry inside, turning see watch a tall, older man with a gun close and bar the door behind her, his blue eyes peering through the bars for a moment before he turned to face her, frowning.

"You're a kid. Why's he bringing me a damn kid?" The older man growled. "Now I'll be stuck here even longer."

He hefted the gun he was carrying and rested it against his shoulder, beginning to circle around her. Portia watched him with both hands gripping her rifle with white knuckles, swallowing a few times.

He was almost a foot taller than she was, putting him at about 6'8" or 6'9", a gruff face with graying stubble turned up in a sneer as he looked her over. He had shorn, sandy brown hair speckled with silver and the kind of blue eyes that reminded her of the huskies they kept back home, and his hands looked rough.

This was a working man, the hard muscles under the white shirt he wore prominent and the various scars he sported looking as if they might have come from heavy machinery.

"A scrawny girl is the best he can get me, huh?" The man muttered, Portia frowning at him. "You probably don't even know how to use that thing you're carrying, do you? Bet it makes you feel better having it though." He scratched at his chin and offered her a lopsided grin. "Maybe I can use you as bait for the ones who seem a little more coherent."

"I think I liked the company of the Reaper better." Portia remarked in a heated tone, the man's eyebrows raising and a laugh escaping his throat.

"Oh, is that so? Well, if that's the way you want it, I can send you back out to hang with the chubby boy a bit longer. I'm sure he'd be really great company while he was trying to eat you."

"Chris led you here, asshole. Would you have been able to make it on your own?" Portia shot back, the man letting out another laugh, this one more genuine.

"Better than you would have, sweetheart. The Reapers would have taken you back to their den and made a feast out of you." His blue eyes flickered over her. "Though I'm not sure how much they would have gotten out of you. Skin and bones…"

His grin grew wider… he could see he was getting a rise out of her and despite her efforts not to react, Portia felt her breath growing heavy and her cheeks turning hot.

"Aww, is the princess getting angry? C'mon, princess, show me what you got!" The man growled.

Portia indulged his request by raising the empty rifle she held and smashing it into his face just as he finished speaking, causing him to stagger back a few steps with a yelp of surprise. Shifting her grip on the rifle and setting her legs apart for balance, Portia kept her narrowed eyes on him and readied herself for another blow if he tried to advance…

Instead, he started chuckling under his breath, spitting blood on the ground and wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

"Damn." He muttered, chuckling a little more loudly. "Wasn't expecting that."

"There's more where that came from, unless you're finished already." Portia snarled, the man looking over at her with a smile and straightening where he stood. She had connected with both his mouth and nose, splitting the former but not hitting the latter hard enough to break it.

"It's good to see you're not going to break down and cry on me." The man muttered, Portia blinking at him and relaxing her stance a little. "I'm sorry about that."

"… you Canadians make no sense." The words left Portia's mouth before she could stop them, the man letting out a roar of laughter and slapping his leg, shaking his head.

"Had to test you, girl. I've been waiting here for awhile, and Chris said he was bringing more help when he left me here yesterday. He's a good kid, that one, if not a little frightening as an infected." The man pressed his fingers to his nose gingerly and continued to laugh, walking back towards her. "The name's Roger."

"Portia." They shook hands, though Portia continued to eye him suspiciously.

"Hey, don't look at me like that. It wouldn't have been any good for you and I to travel together if you had started weeping and carrying on like a kid. How old are you anyway? 20? 22 maybe?" Roger asked, smiling politely.

"25, actually. I always get told I look younger." Portia lowered her gun at last and sat down on the desk behind her, letting out a short sigh.

"Well you do." Roger shrugged, seating himself in a rolling chair nearby. "Not that it's a bad thing. Kick back for awhile, I've got plenty of food around here… if you need to rest a couple days, we can do that too. There's a cot at the back for sleeping."

Portia shifted where she was sitting, lowering her eyes to the floor, and Roger sighed.

"Look, I'm not some dirty old pervert, alright? I've got… rather, I had a daughter your age, so I'm not gonna stare or do anything creepy while you're sleeping. I'll stand watch at the door for you the same way you can stand watch at the door for me, alright?" He murmured, Portia looking at him with her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No." Portia shook her head, sighing and tapping her fingers on the desk she sat on. "I'm not. I came here from Alaska to find my mother. The first few minutes after entering view of the city, seeing it burning… and then when we crashed on the runway, I realized that there's no chance she's even alive anymore."

"Never give up hope, Portia. And even if things do take a turn for the worse, just keep in mind that you tried. You tried your hardest." Roger nodded towards the cot. "Why don't you rest?"

"I couldn't sleep now if I tried." Portia admitted with a small smile.

…

…

…

Author's Note!!

I just want to thank everyone who's been reading and reviewing this story! I'm really enjoying the characters, though I'm sort of learning about them as I go, so I'm sorry if they seem flat, or stale, or if the story seems to be moving at a much slower pace. I don't have an end or anything planned for this one, I'm just writing and waiting to see where it will take me!

No new infected to share with you this time around… perhaps the next chapter will have more!

If you have any questions, feel free to ask away and I will do my best to answer them!


	4. Long Road

She couldn't go back to the den empty handed and showing all the signs of having eaten recently, not while her dominance over her tiny clan and their territory was still so fresh. The truck she had discovered was full of food, and while the meat wasn't warm and fresh, it was just as good, and cool in the summer heat.

She just wasn't sure she wanted to risk the Sprinters, Crusher and the transformed Glutton, any one of the three very capable of being in the place she needed to go. Crusher was something so obvious to avoid, being as big and as strong and as angry as he was, the Sprinters had lost a few members but were still dangerous enough as a group to give her trouble, and the Glutton…

The Glutton was transformed, which meant he was hungry.

Easing out of the room where she had been hiding, a room that smelled strongly of waste, urine and cleaning supplies, the Reaper peered up and down the brightly lit hallway. The coast was clear from what she could see, so she headed down into the street, her thoughts remaining on her brother and their Witch back at the den.

It had been some time since they had eaten, and she couldn't let them starve… hunger did terrible things to the infected. The Glutton was ever living testament to this fact, and she would be dead before she allowed her kind to reach that terrible point.

The steps leading down out of the school were filthy, covered with littered bones and discarded flesh, signs that something had been there recently and had been eating. It wasn't the Sprinters, they usually took their prey away with them rather than eating it on the spot, and it wasn't Crusher…

Crusher didn't leave anything behind, not even bones.

That meant the Glutton was still close, but if he was feeding, she would be able to get around him without him giving her too much trouble.

She came across a group of Sprinters on her way to the truck she had hidden herself and the girl in, but they were busy transporting a body they had liberated from the Glutton and offered her no more than warning growls and a few soft barks as she gave them wide berth and continued onwards. She was very lucky she didn't encounter humans… they had a terrible habit of popping up with their fire, their guns and their prejudice.

The doors at the back of the truck were still wide open, meaning that nothing had come along smart enough to close them, the trail of blood that led up to it and was smeared over the rear of it proving that something had come while she was gone.

She only hoped it had gone as quickly as it had come and that it had left something behind for her to take back to the den. If the blood had gotten onto anything, the food would spoil quickly. If it hadn't, she might still be able to salvage enough to keep her clan going until they found food again.

Approaching the truck cautiously, she caught the strong, musky scent that indicated the Glutton was near, but the scent was more faint than it had been before she had hidden in the room in the university. He must have seen them come from this truck and had deemed it safe, or he knew…

He knew she would be back.

Coming up to the back, keeping low so whatever was inside might not be able to see her, she peeked into the truck slowly and carefully, seeing that the inside was no more ransacked than when she had gotten her claws on it. She could hear breath coming from the back corner of the truck, labored, shallow and short, judging that the owner of the breath was no threat to her.

As she clamoured up into the truck, her eyes fell on the Glutton in his human form, slumped in the corner with his skin, torn sweater and ripped pants covered in blood and gore. His eyes were closed, his chest heaving with the effort of breathing and his limbs trembling in exhaustion.

She could tell just by looking that his transformation was complete… his rage was utterly spent and he would need rest and water before he would even be able to walk again.

Here, he was very vulnerable.

As she looked around, she realized the Glutton had also been very sick… it was a trend she had noticed with him, an unhealthy one that she worried he did on purpose. It was either a good sign, or a very bad one.

If he regurgitated every time he ate, he would never be able to keep up his strength. If it was for noble, human reasons, she admired it, but it was foolish none the less. They ate what they had to… even humans did in most extreme cases. It was morally wrong for the humans to do so, but the Glutton wasn't really human and was putting himself in unnecessary danger by doing this.

Her clan needed her… but the Glutton was here, right now, and he needed her more.

…

Chris could barely think through the exhaustion and the terrible fog of rage that still lingered on his mind. He had wasted so much of his energy trying not to give in… and when there wasn't any of him left to hold the Glutton back, it had gotten out and he woke up to find himself devouring the same infected he had just been killing.

He was sick… he was so sick. His skin felt even more flushed and hot with fever than usual, his stomach ached, his limbs were killing him and his head… His head was throbbing like someone had smashed it against a brick wall or dropped him from a very high place.

He blacked out again shortly after, woke to find himself roaming the streets, what remained of a Sprinter on the ground in front of him. Then the changes began to reverse themselves and he crawled back to the truck where the Reaper had been keeping Portia.

There was food in there, food that she didn't have to kill for, food she could scavenge without it being from another person or from an infected. Good food, easy food. The Reaper was sure to come back there, and he had shared food with her in the past, making him an ally of sorts.

He needed her help. It was strange to turn to such a creature for assistance, but he would take whatever he could right now, and he could honestly trust her far more than anyone else these days.

Collapsing in the corner of the truck, darkness claimed him once more, all of the energy he had tried to save now gone. He slept with his back and his head pressed into the cool metal, waiting…

His patience was soon rewarded.

Chris opened his eyes, the feeling of a rough tongue on his neck and cheek rousing his sluggish thoughts as he realized there was a smaller body pressed to his own. His arm felt tingly, proving that she had been at this for awhile, and despite the utter oddness of the situation, he didn't feel particularly inclined to move or try to stop her.

When she noticed he was awake, the Reaper pulled back ever so slightly, gazing at him with those glowing red eyes of hers and tilting her head to the side. She slid away from him, returning in seconds with a bottle of water she had found in the truck. She struggled to open it for a moment, then offered some to him after cutting the top of the bottle off with her claws.

Chris offered her a smile in return, too weak to talk, the water feeling so good on his throat. The throbbing of his head began to dull slightly after a few drinks, and the horrible taste in his mouth was washed away. Once the water was down, he felt the throbbing of his head lessen quite a bit, able to take a good look at her in the strange artificial light.

She had shed the hooded sweatshirt she had been wearing, clad now in a loose white tank top that looked as though it had been spotless before she started tending to him, dark stains on it now from all the blood that covered him. She was completely hairless… he hadn't realized that about them before, having never seen one up this close and definitely not this personal. Her eyes were luminescent, completely white but glowing red, no other color in them but the black pupils, and her features were almost Asian. She was very petite… almost pretty.

Pretty like a deadly spider was pretty.

She noticed Chris was staring and let out a hiss through bared teeth… very, very sharp bared teeth. Chris took in a breath and offered her a gentle smile, the Reaper curling her nose before picking up a piece of jerky she had liberated from one of the boxes.

She offered it to him, but Chris shook his head. There was no way he would be able to eat that sort of thing, not in his condition… it was pathetic, being too tired to even chew food.

Hissing again, the Reaper leaned down and continued cleaning him, Chris shifting uncomfortably. She was giving him the impression of being some sort of human shaped cat, and he had become a member of her clan, her pride. Then he realized they were sitting in a refrigerated truck, and from what he had seen of the infected, they disliked the cold.

She wasn't just trying to tend to him, she was also trying to keep warm.

"Under different circumstances, I'd be the luckiest fucking man alive." He muttered to himself, watching the Reaper sit back a bit and begin gnawing on the piece of jerky. "You're not gonna go Princess Mononoke on me, are you? Because that would come dangerously close to stripping me of all the dignity I have left."

She hissed softly in return, the only noise he had ever heard a Reaper make. He wondered if the infection had taken their vocal cords…

The Reaper stopped gnawing on the jerky and lowered it slowly, turning her eyes to the side of the truck and tilting her head as if listening for something, Chris' heart beginning to beat a little faster.

They were still in Crusher's territory… if the beast came for them, there was no way either of them could stop it.

Getting up, the Reaper made her way to the back of the truck and peeked out the open doors, Chris not daring to ask her what it was she was listening for.

The ground wasn't shaking, he couldn't hear the growling of the beast anywhere close, so there was a chance it wasn't Crusher that had the little Reaper suddenly spooked. Wetting his lips and attempting to sit up, Chris grit his teeth.

"Something bad coming?" He asked softly, the Reaper turning her glowing eyes to him and frowning.

An instant later, she was scurrying back towards him as the sound of an aircraft filled the air. Gathering his shirt in her hand, she dragged him up and began to run, impossibly fast. Leaping out of the truck, she landed with a crunch on a nearby car, Chris in tow, then began dodging and weaving through the vehicles on the road. Other infected were running with them, Chris seeing with a jolt of shock that Crusher was among them, the beast letting out a bellow of terror as the sound of the aircraft drew closer. A Witch they passed in their mad flight had gotten to her feet and was looking straight up into the air, Chris turning his gaze the same way to see what it was they were all running from.

The sight that met his eyes reminded him of something he had seen in a safe room before things had gotten really bad. He had brushed it off as people being paranoid or trying to stir up more fear than they needed… but now he understood that those things they wrote were actually true.

_Planes are falling out of the sky._

Planes _WERE_ falling out of the sky…

…

Portia had fallen asleep almost immediately after laying down, obviously wiped out from all the emotional and physical trauma she had suffered on her short journey. Roger stood guard by the door, sitting on the desk and kicking his feet while humming to himself to keep his mind occupied. He was bored stiff…

Gazing out the window of the safe room, he scanned the empty hallway for anything that might have been moving, but the infected seemed to be avoiding this area now. There was the sound of aircraft from outside, but it was more common in this place and no cause for alarm considering they were so close to the airport, so Roger chose to ignore it.

"Damn." He muttered, drumming the fingers of his free hand on his leg. "I'd give anything for a horde right about now."

Seconds later, he was thrown on his face as something hit the ground outside, the roar sounding every bit like a train wreck or an earthquake. Roger let out a shout, ducking backwards under the desk, the roof above him being torn off so quickly he couldn't see what had done it. Across the room, he could hear Portia screaming over the roar, pushing himself out from under the desk to go to her.

An explosion rocked the building a few seconds later, flame and smoke rising up into the sky. Portia gasped hoarsely when Roger grabbed her arms, and he had to give her a shake to get her to come to her senses.

"C'mon! Come back to me, Portia!"

"W-w-was that a b-bomb?!" Portia stammered, being jerked to her feet by Roger, who looked as shaken up as she felt.

"I don't know! It's not safe here, we have to go!" Roger shouted back, taking her hand in his and guiding her to the door.

It might not have been safe outside, either, but without a roof and in a locked room, they were sitting ducks here. Smokers, Spitters, Reapers and Hunters were just the beginning of their worries if they stayed here, and if it WAS a bomb that hit them, there might be more explosions to come.

Together, they ran down the hall and back out the front, Roger carrying his gun and Portia clutching her rifle for dear life.

"We have to go into the city! That will have started a fire, and I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but the Okanagan Valley is best known for it's burning in the summertime!" Roger shouted to Portia, whose cheeks were wet with tears that carved tracks through the dust and grime now covering her face.

As soon as they exited the University, it appeared as if they had entered a war zone. The source of the explosion became very clear, a downed aircraft having crashed into a field nearby. Fire roared around it, making its way quickly up the nearby hillside. A second plane, a MUCH bigger one, had taken the roof off the University after nose diving into the highway. The pavement had been torn up and all the vehicles and any living thing in its way were crushed into the trench it had carved in the ground before it came to rest some distance away.

Portia's hand tightened in Roger's, the man sparing her a glance before tugging her down the ruined highway. There were no infected around them, but shapes were moving through the smoke ahead, Roger keeping his grip on his gun in case he needed to use it.

"Chris!" Portia bleated, Roger hushing her and pulling her up to run beside him, the two of them still clutching hands.

"I'm sure he got out of the way." Roger told her, hoping he sounded convincing… and convinced. This place was a mess…

"Oh God, there was a Reaper, too. She saved me." Portia's voice was hoarse, her breathing shakey. Roger had to calm her down before she became hysterical, so he pulled to a stop and sat her down on the ground, putting both hands on her shoulders.

"You survived a plane crash, Portia. This one didn't hurt you, and you've got me with you. You're not alone, you're going to be fine… we'll find Chris and your Reaper, alright, you've just got to stay with me." He put his hands on her face, forcing her to look him in the eye. "C'mon. Stay with me. Are you with me?"

Portia was quiet but for her labored breath for a time, then she nodded slowly, swallowing a few times. Roger smiled and wiped the tears from her cheeks, pulling her back up to her feet and glancing around. If they followed the highway, it was wide open, but Crusher's territory ended a short distance down and the infected would be easier to see. They would have to find a new safe room, but since Roger had lived in this city his whole life, he knew it fairly well and felt confident he would be able to find some place for them to rest.

He kept a faint hope that Chris had somehow made it out of the crash in one piece… he had the instincts of an infected after all, and he was fast when he was transformed. As for the Reaper, one less in the world wouldn't hurt, even if it had saved Portia's life.

Tugging Portia's hand, Roger began to make his way down the highway as fast as he dared, noticing that all the infected they came across were ignoring them completely, too agitated and stricken by the crash to know what was going on. The fire was also spreading, and the infected hated fire… They would probably be moving away from it, which meant the population in the city would be growing by the hour.

Best to be fast about this…

"You with me, Portia?" He asked again, looking over at her.

Portia took in a breath and nodded again. "Yeah." She said softly. "Yeah, I'm with you. Let's go."


	5. Into the Lion's Den

Portia couldn't believe how fast the flames were spreading. The day was at its peak, the sun had risen high and hot, the air was almost hard to breathe, and this whole place was like a huge tinderbox.

It didn't take long for the panic to set in, the creatures that had stopped running as the planes came to rest after their crash now fleeing from the growing fire in a panic. Portia could see there was no way they were going to be able to outrun it on foot, not at this rate.

Roger seemed to be moving with grim determination, his eyes ahead instead of behind like Portia's, and it was him that spotted some of the wreckage moving as if someone were trying to escape from beneath it. Their fingers were still locked together as he led the way, and Portia glanced at him with a curious look when he tugged her to the pile of wreckage.

If it was trapped and infected, he would shoot it to put it out of its misery. If it was Chris, he was going to help him no matter what state the other survivor might be in. There was always a slim chance he had made it…

It seemed that today was full of miracles that neither of them had quite used up yet. The wreckage pile was being held up by a creature that had been described to Portia, but descriptions couldn't prepare her for seeing one in the flesh. Almost nine feet tall, supporting itself on strong looking legs with backwards bending knees, huge teeth grit in double hinged jaws, glittering black eyes narrowed in pain and long, long arms with huge hands full of claws braced against the ground, the Glutton strained to keep the wreckage from falling on the much more delicate creature on the ground before him.

When it spotted them, it turned its twisted face with a low growl, pushing the wreckage up a little more. Breathing hard, the Glutton turned its eyes to Roger, who had raised his gun in preparation of shooting if he was given a reason to.

"You in there, Chris?" The man asked, Portia creeping forward a tiny bit to catch a glimpse of what it was the Glutton was protecting.

The Glutton kept those black eyes fixed on Roger, an almost pleading expression on his barely human face, the man lowering his gun and stepping forward as well.

"That's her." Portia breathed, tucking some of her loose hair from her face. "That's the Reaper that saved me."

"Then this is Chris alright." Roger grimaced. "Something's obviously changed in him to make him so docile while transformed. There's a chance that when we get her out of there, he's gonna throw a fit, so be ready to run, alright?"

"Right." Portia replied, taking in a deep breath and waiting for Roger to pull the Reaper out from under the wreckage.

Chris turned his eyes to Portia, face splitting into a hellish grin as another growl escaped him, Roger instructing her to take a few steps back before reaching in and gingerly pulling the prone form of the Reaper towards him.

"She's still alive. Looks like something struck her on the head… damn, she's tiny." Roger remarked, gathering the very light infected in his arms and standing, stepping back to join Portia.

Chris waited a few seconds, then strained once more against the wreckage, muscles rippling as he threw it off of himself, sending it crashing to the ground behind him. He then hunched forward sightly, knuckles resting on the ground, his breath heavy, dark eyes closed, Roger setting the Reaper down on the ground next to Portia and taking up his gun again.

"This fire's getting bad, Chris, we can't stay here." Roger spoke slowly, quietly, not wanting to startle the Glutton into attacking. "We have to get her back to her clan and get ourselves into the city. The city will be safer, buildings are harder to burn and the less trees and grass there is, the safer we'll be. Are you with us?"

The Glutton was very still for a moment, then he opened his eyes and straightened, towering over them both at an impossible height.

"Tired." The word came out strangely, that demonic looking face twisting once again, and Roger nodded a few times.

"It's not far. C'mon. We can get you there, maybe she'll let you stay with them for a bit, and rest." The human man told the monster, who sagged slightly at the thought of moving. "Can you carry her? C'mon, you can do it."

It took some coaxing, and Roger didn't lower his gun once while he did it, but he got Chris moving, convincing him to lift the Reaper off the ground and carry her gently as they walked. The fire was roaring away behind them now, it was hotter than ever, and Portia was growing increasingly disturbed. If they didn't get away, that fire was going to consume them. And if it got to the highway, it was going to start burning cars… all that fuel was going to explode and she didn't want to be around to see it.

Chris' exhaustion seemed to keep the terrible hunger at bay, and it probably helped that he had fed recently, but his movements were slow and jerky. He paused every few steps to catch his breath, Roger letting out a curse and looking around.

"Find a car with keys in the ignition or somewhere near the vehicle." He instructed. "Or at least one that's unlocked. We might be able to hotwire it. Preferably something big, so we can take it down the hill without having to worry about the highway."

"Why do we need to go back to the clan?" Portia hissed as she did as instructed.

"Because if we leave them back there, she might die from grief. These little buggers are really attached to one another, and before she goes, she might kill us all in a rage. I don't pretend to know just how Reapers work, I'm guessing here… besides, it would break my heart." Roger explained, Portia setting her mouth in a line.

"This monstrosity has keys." She called from the passenger door of a Hummer, Roger nodding and leading Chris over to it. The thought of being in a closed vehicle with a Glutton and an injured Reaper wasn't a good one… but if it got them away from the fire, she was all for it.

"Good. Hop in, I'll drive. I'll need you to hold the gun." Roger remarked, handing the gun off to Portia. She raised it immediately, Chris turning his glittering eyes to her and offering her a tired nod. They hit another speed bump almost immediately.

"There is no way he's going to fit." Portia whispered to Roger, who nodded grimly and rubbed the back of his head. "If he changes back, we might be able to lift him in, even if he falls unconscious."

"That might be our best bet. We've gotta get moving, that fire's getting too close for comfort." Roger replied, moving back to where Chris was standing by the back door, having already put the Reaper gingerly on the seat. "Hey big guy." The Glutton turned his eyes to Roger, nodding at him. "Can you muster the energy to change back?"

Chris froze for a second, then looked down at the ground, his body beginning to tremble. Portia crept closer with the gun, looking at Roger in alarm.

"I know it hurts. It must really suck for you, but if we're going to survive, we need you to change back, buddy." Roger continued, Chris looking at him once more before letting out a shuddering moan.

Portia lowered the gun as it began, putting one hand to her mouth with eyes wide. The cries of pain that escaped Chris' mouth were terrible, but understandable…

It made her think how awful transforming in the first place must be. Bones stretched and popped, muscles quivered, shrunk and shrivelled, and Chris clutched his hands to his head, screaming. He collapsed onto his knees as they turned back to normal, slamming huge fists into the ground, gathering handfuls of the broken pavement and easily crushing it to dust. His massive hands the last thing to change and it was understandable now why his clothing was ripped in such a way. Tears streaming down his filthy face, Chris retched, moving one hand to clutch at his stomach, and Portia hurriedly looked away, not wanting to see.

"Damn it, Chris…" Roger whispered. There was the sound of shuffling feet, Chris releasing low moans of pain and anguish past the sobs that shook him, then Roger closed the door of the Hummer. He put his hand on Portia's arm, letting her know it was safe to get in the vehicle, but she didn't move for a long moment, making the older man frown. "Portia, c'mon. We have to go."

"I wanna go home." Portia whispered. "I want to wake up and find this was all just a terrible dream. I want to wake up and cry on my father's shoulder while he reassures me that monsters aren't real."

"You can cry on me later, then, when we're not in the path of a forest fire. I don't mean to sound heartless, but honey, this isn't a bad dream. This is all too real and if we don't move, we're going to die. So get your ass in the vehicle and let's get out of here." Roger spoke softly, his words stinging, but Portia knew he was right.

This wasn't a dream.

…

He had been laying with the Witch in the nest when he heard the explosions, his heart jumping with fear at the thought of his sister being out there all by herself. It was safer inside, he knew, but part of him wanted to rush to her rescue. Part of him wanted to see, wanted to know whether or not he had to take over the clan for good, whether or not he was now a true orphan.

The Witch, who they called Charm, let out a dull sob and covered her face with her hands the best she could, both frightened of the loud noises and sad that he had left her to go to the window to look outside.

Gesturing for her to be quiet, he pulled the cover from the window, bathing the whole room with harsh, hot sunlight, then opened the window so he could hear and smell what as going on outside. Charm crept a little closer to him, looking out the window as well, and he hissed very softly through clenched teeth.

They would have to wait… it was too dangerous out there, and his sister was the alpha. His sister had told him to stay… so he had to stay. He had to stay and watch the clan, stay and watch their territory, stay until she came back.

He would give her a day… if she hadn't returned by then, he would go to find her.

…

It was a bumpy ride, and it didn't take long for the jerking of the Hummer to wake the Reaper from her fitful state of unconsciousness, her red eyes opening wide and claws unsheathing. Chris managed to get a hand on her, closing his fingers around her dainty wrist and hushing her, causing her to calm down a bit and lay back against the seat.

Roger hadn't bothered with the road, navigating the Hummer down the slope that led to the airport instead, the grim determination on his face not disappearing as he drove. Portia was silent beside him, both guns laid across her lap and her eyes remaining on the two in the backseat, in case things took a turn for the worse.

"We need to at least give her a name." Portia said after awhile, both the men looking at her strangely. "Well, we can't go around calling her 'you' or 'her' or 'she' now can we? We should give her a proper name that she can understand and when she hears it, she'll know we're talking about her."

"Why bother? We're going to be dropping her off and leaving her, aren't we?" Chris frowned as Roger spoke and Portia looked to the older man with a short shake of her head.

"I don't think it's going to happen like that, Roger. I think we've been adopted as part of her clan. Especially now." She murmured. "We should give her a name that reflects her well… something like Pearl. Or maybe Opal."

"She's pretty enough for Pearl." Chris remarked, glancing over at the Reaper. She didn't look impressed at all with the choice of name, so he apologized softly. "Maybe Opal then?"

"Opal." Portia nodded, putting one hand on the dash as they lurched to a stop very near the airport. "How many in your clan, Opal?"

When the Reaper held up three fingers, Roger and Chris both looked shocked.

"Out of this entire building, this whole territory you've got for yourself, you only have THREE people in your clan?" Roger exclaimed, his voice startling her and causing her to try and curl up in the corner of the seat.

"Clans are generally bigger than that." Chris explained quietly to Portia, who pushed open her door and moved to open the back one, helping Opal out and steadying her on her feet. "I could use some help. I'm pretty tired."

Roger got out as well and assisted Chris, the two of them moving to join Opal and Portia before all four of them hurried as best they could inside. The infected that still lingered around the airport didn't even give them a second glance, though some of them moved away in earnest when Chris got too close.

Portia figured that befriending two infected had its benefits.

Opal led them up to a darkened room, Chris making sure not to step on any of the glass that littered the ground outside, both humans freezing outside the door when a soft gasp and furious growling emitted from the darkness inside, two glowing orbs of red opening to illuminate a very eerie young woman's face.

"Oh shit." Roger breathed, Opal looking back at them for a moment before stumbling inside. After a few seconds, the growling stopped, a soft, affectionate croon issuing forth, then Opal reappeared in the doorway and beckoned to them with one hand.

"Was that a Witch?" Portia whispered, remembering the description Chris had given her. When they entered and a second Reaper at the back of the room opened a heavy curtain over one of the windows, the room was bathed in light and revealed the Witch and her long, knife like claws. "Wow…"

"She won't hurt you now." Chris confirmed, nodding a bit. Roger helped the younger man to sit against the wall, the second Reaper, a male who bore a striking resemblance to Opal, coming to assist him to the enormous pile of blankets at the back to rest.

Opal tried to do the same to Portia, who protested slightly, Roger trying to resist his guns being taken from him across the room. The Witch put her head in her hands and let out a low groan, a soft, gasping breath, Chris blinking in surprise and turning his gaze to Portia.

"Charm says they think the fire won't jump the highway. We should rest here for the night, leave one person on watch just to be sure. The second things look like they might turn bad, we'll head off." He said, Portia staring at him for a moment before looking at the Witch, who was rocking in spot, sobbing softly.

"She said that? And her name is Charm?" There was a sceptical tone to Portia's voice, Chris chuckling softly. The male Reaper had managed to wrestle the guns from Roger, giving him a dangerous look that made him move to the back to join Chris on the pile of blankets.

"We can talk to one another using a sort of language that the other infected can understand. It would sound like random noises to humans, but we can piece together words from it. I suppose… Gluttons would make great translators if they weren't trying to kill people all the time." Chris chuckled again, leaning back against the blankets and letting out a sigh.

Opal crouched down by Charm after leading Portia to the back, the two of them exchanging a meaningful look before the Witch slowly rose and took up a position by the door. She fell silent, though she still rocked in place as she waited, Portia realizing after a moment that Charm would be the one keeping watch.

She eyed the 'nest' and the people in it, Opal prodding at her back with a soft, rather disgruntled sounding sigh until she at last made herself comfortable at the very edge of it, away from the others. Portia didn't know them well enough just yet to cozy up to them while sleeping…

It appeared, however, that she had no choice. Opal crawled in and curled herself around Chris, and the Reaper that was obviously her brother slid in next to Portia, giving her a hard look before his expression softened and he stretched out, yawning like a cat and closing his eyes. Portia sat awake for a little while, listening to the soft breathing of the others, glancing at the door from time to time.

It was too odd.

…

…

…

Author's Note!!

Whoo! Finally get a good look at the thing that Chris becomes when he transforms and the reason so many other infected are afraid of them!

**Infected Type: Glutton**

**Looks like a normal person until it transforms. **

**Transformation is extremely painful. Arms elongate, canines become like fangs, knees bend backwards and nails harden to become powerful claws. Very, very fast, has a distinctive howl. Actually devours humans. **

Any Questions/Comments, feel free to drop me a note or something! Thanks for reading!


	6. Home

Author's Note!!

So sorry about the delay, my lovelies. I've had major writers block lately which tends to make me hate every bit of writing I actually manage to churn out. I had this half written and scrapped the whole bloody thing to start over… soooo here it is! I hope you enjoy!

…

…

…

Portia wasn't sure exactly what woke her the next morning. Perhaps it was the warm breath of the Reaper beside her washing over her neck, perhaps it was the sudden cease in sound that filled the room almost tangibly or perhaps it had something to do with the barking sound that came from down the hallway.

The smell, perhaps…

Maybe it was the smell.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself looking directly into the eyes of the male Reaper who had pulled her down to sleep in the nest, his expression one of calm near amusement, and he smiled at her when she stirred. Reaching up a finger adorned with a curved claw like a sickle, he pressed it to his lips, slipping out of the nest and stealing towards the door.

The Witch looked up at him, her red eyes gleaming even in the daylight, and the soft growl that issued forth from her throat was the sort that one could feel rather than hear, making Portia shudder. The human girl looked across the room to where their weapons were resting… she would feel a lot better if she actually had her gun.

Good gods, the stench was overwhelming. What WAS that? Portia also crawled out of the nest, much less gracefully than the Reaper had, stifling the scream that escaped her when Roger's hand closed over her ankle as she crept past him. He also gestured for her to be quiet and she nodded, picking up his gun and handing it to him as she retrieved her own.

Chris was still sleeping, Opal curled up against his chest, and Portia figured they would be better off resting after what had happened yesterday.

Sprinters were nothing that she, Roger and the two infected couldn't handle.

"Ready for this?" Roger said below his breath, Portia nodding at him and watching the male Reaper hurry back into the room.

Charm looked up at him, then got to her feet with her hands at her sides, letting out a sound like an angry cat and beginning to shake. Roger shifted beside Portia, who simply stared in wonder. She had never seen a Witch before yesterday, and watching this one prepare for attack like this was utterly fascinating. Roger simply seemed unnerved and cast a curious glance at the Reaper as he came to stand beside them.

"How many?" He asked, the Reaper offering him one of those calm, amused smiles before looking back at the door with his eyes gleaming as if in excitement. "Alright then. How close-" Before Roger's question could be finished, two figures dropped heavily from the skylight above with warbling cries and three more burst in through the door, two making it no more than a step before Charm knocked them down with those knife like claws. She shrieked and threw herself into the fray, blood and limbs flying through the air as she lay waste to the pack trying to come in through the door.

Roger clocked one of the two that dropped from the skylight with the butt of his gun, Portia's gun roaring in the closeness of the room and bringing both Chris and Opal to their feet in a hurry.

The second from the skylight fell to the ground with a groan, Charm's screams filling the air as Opal hurried to assist her. Several more were pouring in from above - this pack was far larger than the one they had fought outside - and Portia saw the male Reaper leap at one with the force of a Hunter, flattening it to the ground and literally tearing its face off with his claws. Neither of the Reapers made a sound, Charm more than making up for their lack of vocalization.

Roger didn't dare shoot anything trying to come in through the door, and Chris found himself grappling with two Sprinters as they charged at him, the Glutton's larger bulk easily overthrowing them. One of them came in range of Portia's gun, which she slammed down into the thing's face, the panicked yelp that escaped it cutting off with a second blow as dark blood spread in a pool beneath it.

Chris made a choked noise, staggering back as he got a nose full of whatever the smell was that now permeated the room.

"Ugh… these things… what have they been feeding on?!" He cried, Portia not stopping to hear the answer. She moved closer to the door, aiming over the heads of the infected fighting outside to peg a Smoker that had lurked near between the eyes, Roger giving her a look of surprise.

"You heard that above this racket?" He called, Portia shaking her head and flushing.

"I saw it drop down after the others!" She called back, Charm letting out her loudest shriek yet as she plunged her claws through the throat of a Sprinter and kicked it off with one frail looking leg.

Their numbers were dwindling, but the seemingly starving infected kept throwing themselves at the survivors and the Reaper clan, none of them able to land anymore than a glancing blow before they perished. When at last the calm after the storm came, Portia looked around at the collection of bodies and body parts, the smell of blood and decay so strong now her stomach was beginning to turn.

She couldn't imagine how the Reapers and Chris must feel. She was aware their senses were heightened, and their sense of smell was far better than her own. The male Reaper looked in disgust at the ruined pile of blankets, Opal letting out a soft sigh of disappointment as she moved to join him.

Their nest was destroyed, tainted…

A wave of guilt gnawed at Portia's belly. She couldn't help feeling they were responsible for this. The smell of humans was stronger to the infected than the smell of other infected, and the Sprinters had inevitably been drawn by it.

Drawn here.

It was their fault the nest was destroyed.

Charm was still growling savagely, her glowing red eyes turning to gaze at the Survivors, the hair on the back of Portia's neck standing on end as she lowered her gun and backed away.

The male Reaper moved to Charm's side and reached out one hand to put it on her arm, the Witch's head snapping to look at him as a louder growl issued forth. He put his other hand on her cheek, then ran his fingers through her hair with his claws sheathed, staring at her wordlessly until she finally calmed down, color rising in her cheeks as she slowly knelt on the ground in front of him. He sank down with her, crouching before her and offering her a gentle smile before looking at the others and nodding.

Portia calmed down, looking around once more at the carnage.

"I guess all we can do now is pack up what we can salvage and get moving." She said softly, Opal scowling up at her. "I'm sorry your nest got wrecked, but we can't rightly stay here now. We can't sleep in a room that smells like this, I'm so sorry."

Opal stared for a moment longer, then exhaled shortly and nodded, raising a hand and waving to get her brother's attention. He glanced over at her, then nodded, leaving his post with Charm to join her.

"Not exactly the wake up call I had been hoping for. Things were going really well for me for once." Chris grumbled, Portia giving him a look and raising an eyebrow. "A hot Asian chick was sleeping all curled up with me. I may be infected, but I'm still a guy."

"A hot bald Asian chick with retractable claws and no vocal cords." Roger murmured, smirking.

"And you may be Canadian, but you're still a pig." Portia concluded, watching the Reapers begin to pack up what few things they wanted to take with them. "It'll be slow going with Charm with us if her behavior continues the way it has. And we're going to need to name the brother."

"Yeah. Can't call him Brother or Hey You, right?" Roger said with a smile, looking over at Charm. She was staring avidly at the two Reapers with her glowing eyes, a rather savage look on her face as if she realized what was going on and was disgusted with it.

Portia followed Charm's gaze, Chris moving to assist the Reapers in any way that he could as Portia contemplated what they could possibly name the other Reaper. Naming things on the fly was hard, but they had found something suitable enough for Opal, so naming the other couldn't be that tough.

She watched the male Reaper as he moved to the window to look outside, watching the sunlight play off of his white skin, making it seem almost as if it were shimmering.

Shimmering like the wings of a dragonfly.

Taking in a breath, Portia turned her eyes away and looked up at Roger. The older man was looking at her curiously, a light in his eyes she couldn't identify, and Portia smiled at him. "How about Gossamer." She whispered, Roger raising an eyebrow.

"We'd have to run it by them. It took us a few tries to get a name for her, after all." He whispered back, moving towards the window. As he walked, he cast a look over his shoulder, Portia easily meeting his gaze.

Curious behavior, but there would be time to dwell on it later, when they were out of danger from both forest fires and crazed, starving infected.

"I gotta find something to eat." Chris said suddenly, looking around at them. "We should hit the road… there's some stuff we can grab on the way out that'll tide me over till we hit the city."

"Tide us all over, big guy." Portia smiled and Chris smiled back easily, nodding. "We gotta eat too."

"Gossamer it is." Roger remarked in passing as he moved towards the door, Portia grinning at him before looking over at the male Reaper. He was staring at Portia with that smile again.

Calm… calm and amused.

…

Chris was beginning to think that Portia was right. Moving together in daylight was hard enough… moving together in daylight with a very depressed infected female who walked at a snail's pace and had to stop every few minutes to cry was even harder. Charm was making travelling next to impossible, but there was no way the Reapers were going to leave her behind.

"What about another vehicle?" He panted after the first few kilometres. They were moving too slowly and the sun was becoming too hot for his tastes. Not to mention the fire was filling the air with smoke and creeping steadily closer to the city thanks to the endless supply of fuel it had on the way.

"I'd like to see you convince them to get into another vehicle." Roger panted in return. The older man was sweating horribly, his shirt stained, and he had begun favoring his right leg. "Especially the Witch. Yeah… that's the last thing I'd like… a Witch being stuck in a very small place with no way to get out."

"I don't feel like dying today." Chris confirmed, pausing to wipe sweat from his forehead. "Hey, I think I see a gas station."

"Praise the gods." Portia gasped, pushing her hair from her eyes. It kept coming loose from her pony-tail and it was making her hotter than she needed to be. She was sweating so badly her shirt was soaked, and she couldn't help feeling self conscious and rather uncomfortable. She only hoped it was one of those gas stations that sold gifts to tourists, so she might be able to find herself something to wear.

"Little strip mall up past the gas station… we should be able to get ourselves some new clothing." Chris continued, picking up the pace a bit. He looked over his shoulder and slowed, finally stopping when he realized that Portia had stopped short on the side of the road.

A few paces behind her, Charm was throwing up in the ditch, a sob escaping her throat as Gossamer patted her back in an attempt to calm her down.

"Damn it." Chris hissed. "That's all we need… a sick Witch." He hurried back towards the others, standing next to Roger as he watched the Reapers attempting to console Charm and convince her to keep walking. "Not much farther… maybe we can stop at the station to rest?"

"Sounds like a plan." Portia remarked, Opal nodding in agreement. Gossamer took Charm's arm in his own and guided her along, the rest of them trudging through the hot, dry air even more slowly than they had been.

A strange sound filled the air just before they hit the gas station, Portia looking around to try and identify the source of it at the same time that Chris did. The Glutton turned to look behind them, calling out to the others and making them draw to a stop. All of them turned to watch as a massive plane came into view above the airport.

"Another crash?" Roger asked, breath heavy. He put one hand over his eyes and watched with horror on his face as the plane slammed into the tarmac and continued on to sweep into the Airport itself. Charm let out a strange, keening cry, Gossamer having to grip her arms to keep her on her feet as they all stood and watched what was left of the plane explode.

The fireball consumed the airport, subsequent explosions ripping through it until the wall of smoke got too thick to see through anymore. The expression on the faces of the Reapers was horrible…

Portia recognized the look as the same emotion she had felt upon seeing her brother and her father dead in the wreckage at the airport after the crash.

Anguish. Grief… whatever other names they had for such an emotion. Loss. Devastation.

One thing that couldn't be emulated by the Reapers , however, was the terrible, sinking sense of lonliness that Portia had experience upon realizing she was the last one in her family that was probably left alive. She was the last one standing.

"I'm so… so sorry." Chris whispered. Opal looked up at him with tears cutting through the filth on her cheeks. She turned to him and wrapped her arms around his middle, hiding her face in his chest, and the Glutton circled her with his arms as well in an attempt to comfort her. Charm let out a sob and hid her face in Gossamer's shoulder, the male Reaper utterly silent as he stared at the airport, his grief becoming disbelief and finally dissolving into something that couldn't be described with words.

Even though they had been forced to leave the nest behind, it had still been their home. It had been the only solid and sure thing other than one another that they had left.

Now it was all up in smoke and they, like Chris, Roger and Portia, were homeless and stranded.

All of them had been left for dead and doomed to wander, and with the fire at their backs and uncertain futures at their fronts, all they could do was hope for the best and keep moving forward.

"The gas station is close." Roger's voice broke Portia from her revery, the girl looking over her shoulder at him and nodding. "C'mon, before we get anymore dehydrated than we already are."

"C'mon Charm." Portia said softly, touching the Witch on the arm and bringing those red eyes around to gaze at her. "It'll be alright. We'll get you some food and water and shelter, alright? That's a good start."

Charm started to growl, to get angry or upset, but one look at the reassuring smile on Portia's face, a smile that didn't touch the human girl's eyes, and her expression softened. She nodded weakly, allowing Portia and Gossamer to move her forward along the side of the road, her bare feet hardly feeling the rubble and the heat.

The gas station was close…

…

…

…

Author's Note!!

Hopefully that was entertaining enough! Should have more chapters coming a lot quicker now that I got past this one. The story I have planned for this fic is a good one and I can't wait to finish it. Much love for all of you!!


	7. Heart Murmurs

Author's Note!!

Here is Chapter 7!! Thanks to all of you who have been reading and reviewing, it means an awful lot to me!

A little warning, this isn't work friendly, not the last bit at least. It's nothing like OMG HORRID BAD HOW DARE YOU, but it's a little... dirty? And you might die a little from cute in this chapter, I know I sure did.

…

…

…

It was hot and stuffy inside the gas station, but they made a collective effort to find fans and crack open windows. The smell wasn't too bad as long as they didn't open the coolers with any of the dairy or deli meats in them, and there was still plenty of food laying around.

"How long have you guys been living with the infection?" Portia asked in surprise. "I'd expect places like this to be looted all to hell."

"Some places are. The bigger box stores are probably CRAWLING with infected." Chris remarked, easing Charm down into a sitting position by the door. She seemed to be more comfortable being near the exits, and they were content to let her sit near the exits, as she was a better watch dog than any of the others here.

"Here." Roger tossed an orange to Chris and smirked. "Plenty to eat here, but eat that first. Don't want you getting scurvy or something."

"Scurvy?" Chris let out a laugh as Roger moved to offer Portia an apple, the girl giving him a tired smile of thanks. When Chris dug his thumbs into the peel of the orange, which was doing surprisingly well despite it being warm in here, he heard a soft gasp from Charm and looked quickly over at her.

Instead of seeing her staring out the glass door, he found her red eyes fixed on him and the orange in his hands. Smiling, Chris moved a little closer and sat down in front of the Witch, who moved closer herself, a hopeful expression on her face.

"You want some of this, do you?" Chris asked with a broader smile, Charm raising her hand to press the back of it to her mouth. "Alright, we can share."

Opal was perched on the counter with the cash register, one eyebrow arched as she watched Chris and Charm, and she looked over at Gossamer almost accusingly. Gossamer was still wearing the same smile he had been at the nest, though there was more amusement in it this time. He let out a soft noise that might have been a laugh, punching Opal lightly in the shoulder before moving away to find himself something to drink.

Roger was loading up their packs with water bottles and packages of food, making sure to grab some of the fruit that was still good, cereal bars, bags of nuts and jerky. "Stop drinking so much of that, you'll be sick. Try the iced tea with the ginger in it." He said firmly to Gossamer, who had been sucking back a large bottle of water. The Reaper stopped drinking and frowned at him furiously, but Opal gave her brother a look that made him immediately obey.

Roger found it interesting how the Reapers could communicate without saying a word to one another, how they seemed to know what the other was trying to say when no words were exchanged. Meaningful glances and hisses, whistles, bites, punches… It was odd to watch and Roger couldn't help feeling rather left out of the conversations the two seemed to have.

He reminded himself that was probably they way they felt about people having verbal conversations.

Chris had managed to peel the orange without too much interference from Charm, but when he pulled off the first piece of the fruit, she seized his hand in both of hers with some difficulty due to her claws, pulling his hand to her mouth and seizing the piece of orange in her teeth. Chris watched her with a strange light in his eyes and a little smile on his lips, a soft laugh escaping him when her soft tongue darted out to lick the orange juice from his fingers.

Charm looked up at him expectantly and Chris nodded, the process being repeated again with another orange piece.

Portia watched for a moment with a smile, eating her apple and nursing a bottle of the same iced tea that Roger had demanded Gossamer drink. She glanced over at Opal, a chill going up her spine at the look in the Reaper's eyes. Roger saw what Portia was looking at and came over, dropping his voice so only she could hear.

"Makes you wonder, huh?" He whispered, Portia looking up at him in confusion.

"Wonder?" She whispered back, Roger nodding with a smirk.

"Yeah… makes you wonder which one she's jealous of." He replied, moving away to continue grabbing things they might need for the trip further into the city. Portia looked back at Opal, then at Chris and Charm, realizing that Roger was right.

It was obvious the Reaper was rather fond of Charm, as had been displayed at the nest, but she also had a fondness for Chris.

"Yeah… wonder…" Portia murmured, reaching down to pick up her pack and taking another drink of iced tea.

"We shouldn't linger too much longer here, we have to get moving. I'd like to make it to a safe house before dark." Roger called, Chris looking over at him and nodding as Charm seized his hand again.

"Sure thing… er… I guess as soon as she's done, we can head out." The Glutton murmured, turning his smile back to the Witch. He blinked when a pale hand appeared beside him, looking up to see Opal holding her hand out expectantly. "Oh, do you want some orange too?"

She twitched her eyebrow at him and made an insistent motion with her hand, Chris offering her the orange with a look of confusion on his face. Charm let out a sob, though she grew quiet when Opal tore what was left of the orange in half, thrusting one half at Chris before shoving his shoulder to get him out of the way. Chris backed up a bit and got to his feet, the confusion on his face only growing when Opal deposited herself on the ground in front of Charm, resuming the task that Chris had before.

"Eat your orange, ladies man." Roger called with amusement, another semblance of a laugh escaping Gossamer. The male Reaper had polished off as much food as he could get his hands on, stopping only when he couldn't possibly eat anymore. He was now leaning against one of the cooler doors with his hand on his stomach and a grin on his face, Portia shaking her head at all of the men before shouldering her pack.

Chris ate his orange in silence, the kicked puppy look he carried as he tried to figure out what he had done wrong making Portia smother a soft laugh behind her hand.

…

The trip to the safe room was difficult, but once they reached the bowling alley Chris claimed the safe room was hidden in, Portia felt relief flooding through her. She was dehydrated despite drinking plenty on the trip, she was sunburned and she felt like she was melting.

Charm was shaking by the time they sat her down in the safe room, her pale skin blushed pink from the sun, and Roger surprised them by producing a small bottle of aloe vera gel he had brought with them from the gas station. "Here… this will make it a little better." He remarked, offering it to Opal. The female Reaper looked at Roger from under her hood with her glowing eyes, smiling up at him before moving to join Charm. The Reaper removed her hooded sweatshirt, Gossamer following her lead. He wasn't wearing anything under his, and he had a thin torso covered in bruises, scratches and scars. Portia frowned as she gazed over at him, Gossamer offering her a brief smile before rummaging around for some more food.

"He sure eats a lot." Roger remarked, watching as Gossamer helped himself to their rations.

"He needs to keep up his strength, I guess." Portia replied, Chris making a soft noise and shaking his head.

"No… his sister is the den mother, the leader of their clan. I have a feeling food was a little hard to come by. No offence meant to Opal, she's trying hard, but… she's not much of a leader right now." The Glutton explained quietly, watching as Opal rubbed the aloe gel on Charm's burning skin.

Portia looked back at Gossamer, who straightened and stretched, his ribs sticking out even more prominently. "And those bruises?"

"A product of their fight for dominance, probably." Chris said, watching Portia for a moment in silence. The girl looked terribly conflicted, and after a moment, she made her way towards Gossamer quietly, the Reaper looking at her and tilting his head to the side.

"Hnn." Roger replied, looking away and moving across the safe room. Chris frowned at him, once again finding himself rather confused. There was a lot happening in this group that wasn't being communicated, but Chris figured there'd be time for them to all figure it out.

After all, they were stuck with one another. They were a clan now.

…

"You should treat those." Portia said softly, reaching out her hand to touch one of the long, jagged scratches on Gossamer's chest, the Reaper catching her hand and shaking his head. "They'll get infected, Gossamer."

He let out a breathless laugh again and shook his head once more. He reached past her to pick up pad of paper used to keep the score of the bowling games, Portia drawing in a breath carefully as he leaned close.

Holding the paper in one hand and a pencil in the other, Gossamer scribbled something down and held it up for her to read. Portia glanced at him in confusion and curiosity, reading the paper with a touch of a smile.

"You can't treat them because… they're wounds inflicted in the battle of dominance. You're being a man about it, then?" She asked, shaking her head, and Gossamer grinned at her.

His teeth were very sharp.

Portia flushed slightly and shook her head again, moving away from him and joining Chris once more. The Glutton was looking at her with a slight frown, and she tilted her head to the side at him. "What's wrong?"

"Oh… n-nothing." Chris smoothed his features and smirked. "It's… not my place to say, I'm pretty sure." He glanced towards Roger, and Portia frowned, shaking her head in confusion.

"I don't understand."

"Eh. Maybe someday." Chris shrugged, blinking at Portia when she began laughing. "W-what?"

"You… just said eh." She giggled, throwing her head back. Her eyes were dancing, her curly hair having come loose from her ponytail. "You seriously just said eh!!"

"Yeah yeah." Chris laughed and shoved her arm playfully, Portia continuing to laugh for a moment longer.

It felt good to be able to laugh.

"Why don't you and Roger take first watch tonight?" Chris asked, Portia shaking her head.

"I think it was decided that Charm and Gossamer were taking first watch. It's not quite night yet, but Goss is resting now, so he's probably intending to stay up later. And Charm doesn't… really sleep, does she?" Portia smirked, gazing over at the sunburnt Witch, who was sobbing quietly as she rocked near the door.

"Nah. I don't think they do at all." Chris made a face. "They're up all day and all night, always carrying on in the same way. I hope she gets a little quieter when it gets dark, sometimes she makes it difficult to sleep." He moved to talk to Roger, leaving Portia to contemplate the Witch in silence.

…

First watch was easy. First watch was when everyone was sleeping most soundly, and Gossamer liked the semblance of solitude it granted him. He laced his fingers together behind his head , then stretched, turning a lazy smile towards Charm.

The Witch was perfectly silent, gazing out through the door of the safe room and rocking in place as she often did during the first part of the evening. Gossamer admired how the moonlight shone on her pale skin, sliding a little closer to her and drawing her attention. She returned his smiled before looking back at the door, and Gossamer smirked playfully.

Sliding so that he sat behind her, Gossamer rose up on his knees and lifted his hands, gathering her white hair. Charm let out a slow gasp, eyes half closing, a purr escaping her throat when Gossamer pulled her hair to one side and leaned down to kiss her neck gently.

This was another reason first watch was his favorite.

Charm arched her back when Gossamer lay his hands on her sides, and she breathed carefully so she wouldn't alert the others, something that had taken some time and some practice. Gossamer trailed kisses up her neck, tracing his tongue over her ear as his hands slid slowly upwards.

Fingers moving over the contours of the Witch's ribs, breath growing a little heavier in his chest, washing warm over the side of Charm's neck, Gossamer found it was impossible not to react. He pressed his hips into hers, fingers sliding up further, just under the fabric at the bottom of her shirt. Fingertips brushing the bottom swell of her small breasts, Gossamer let out a shaking sigh. Her skin was warm and soft, even warmer due to her sunburn now.

Red eyes burning bright, Gossamer slid his hands higher to cup Charm's breasts, squeezing firmly as she let out a soft hiss and arched her back once more. He bit the side of her neck and hissed in return to her, caressing her body, unsheathing his claws ever so slightly to drag across her skin. Her muscles fluttered under her skin and she let out a soft gasp, leaning forward so that her hands rested against the wall by the door, bracing her weight against it.

Practically an invitation.

Gossamer glanced over his shoulder at the others, wetting his lips as his red eyes swept over their sleeping forms. Not one of them stirred, their breathing still calm and even, and he grinned wickedly before turning his attentions back to Charm.

The first watch was theirs and theirs alone…

No one else had to know they weren't getting very much watching done.

…

…

…

Author's Note!!

Just thought I'd mention, Reapers mate for life… with the exception of Gossamer, who is a little shit.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, I know it was sort of… all over the place, but hey! It will be more organized in the future and this is exposition, getting to know the characters and the world and what have you and stuff and…

I should really NOT be writing right now. XD Mmm, eggnog.


	8. Well Fed

Author's Note!!

HOLY CRAP! What's this, an update after forever and ever? Alright, I have some 'splaining to do. I broke my pinkie at work a few months ago, rendering me completely unable to type for long periods of time. After that, I started working heavily on the fantasy novel I've been writing, so I stepped away from the fan fiction. I'm sorry!!

I hope this shortish chapter makes up for lost time, and you can be sure to see more in the future, I PROMISE!!

Love you guys so much

…

…

…

Portia was terrified the two infected by the door would be able to hear her heart attempting to beat its way out of her chest. She kept her breath as even as she could, feigning sleep… She hadn't been expecting this at all, and she couldn't think of a time she had been more uncomfortable.

Peeking one eye open, she found herself looking into the wakeful face of Roger, who had taken up the spot beside her on the floor. A slow smile spread across his face, Portia biting the back of her hand to keep from laughing. The situation was even more uncomfortable now, but the fact that Roger was also aware of what was going on made it a little more bearable.

She supposed it was something they were all going to have to get used to as they travelled together.

Sleep came a little more easily after that, despite the heat and the strange noises, the uncomfortable floor and so many bodies pressed into one space. It still seemed like she had just closed her eyes when Chris began shaking her awake in the morning, a soft noise of protest escaping her throat as she shook the sleep away.

"We're going to Costco!" The Glutton chirped, helping her to her feet. The others were already awake and ready to go, Gossamer once again wearing his lazy smile. Roger handed Portia her pack, which he had prepared for her so they could leave right away. It was very early, not yet hot enough to be uncomfortable, and Portia was grateful for the early start. The faster they reached the next safe room meant the sooner they could get in out of the blistering heat.

"Costco… do you really think that's a good idea?" She asked Chris in a slightly slurred voice, rubbing at her eyes and smoothing her hands over her hair before pulling it back into a tail again.

"Probably not our best one, but honestly, it's as good a place as any. There might be a lot of infected there, but there will also be plenty of supplies, and if we're careful we should be just fine." He stretched a bit, looking over at Opal and Gossamer. "And if things get crazy, we'll try to clear a path for you."

"I'd rather things not get crazy." Roger remarked, loading his gun. "Let's head out, people. Goss, is Charm good to go?"

The Reaper nodded, moving to the door to take Charm's arm. The Witch looked up at him, tilting her head to the side, then slowly got to her feet with a sigh.

The air was thick with smoke outside, Portia letting out a brief sigh herself as she stepped into the early morning sun. The fire was burning away from them, but the smoke was everywhere, and while it wasn't as dangerous as the fire itself it was still a burden they were going to have to bear until the got away from this place.

"Which way?" She asked, shouldering her rifle and moving to stand next to Roger. He pointed down the highway, bringing his gun around to pick off a few stragglers that headed for the sounds of their voices.

"It's not too too far. The terrible thing about the Okanagan Valley is that the summers are hot enough to make travel difficult, as you witnessed yesterday. We have to travel in small bursts… and when we get to Costco, hopefully we can invest in some new clothing that will keep our burns and what have you from getting worse. Some hats would be nice." Roger put his hand on top of Portia's head, grinning down at her. "You'd probably look cute in one."

Cheeks flushing slightly, Portia just gave Roger a look, turning her attention back to the road as they started walking. Charm was easier to manage today, seeming a little more balanced than the day before. She even sang softly to herself as they walked, keeping her eyes on the road. Gossamer took up the rear while Chris guarded the middle of the group which was once again travelling in single file.

Over the smell of the smoke, another smell began to reach the group, Portia reaching up to press the back of her hand to her mouth and nose.

"Yeah, that's pretty bad." Roger murmured, looking round at Chris. "What have we got?"

"Infected, obviously. Lots of them." Chris replied, Charm crooning mournfully. "Charm says she smells Reapers that don't belong to the clan. There's a good chance they've made the warehouse their nest."

"Seems like a good place for it. Real beds, plenty of food and supplies, easy to defend." Roger shook his head, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I don't like it."

A scream from across the street made Portia jump, the girl spinning with her rifle up. Roger followed her lead, Chris letting out a low whistle. Another scream answered the first from a roof nearby, a third echoing from up the road, and Gossamer hissed furiously, turning to his sister.

"Great. Reapers AND Hunters." Roger growled, finger tightening on the trigger of his weapon.

"Is it possible we've just stumbled onto a turf war?" Portia breathed. "We could… we could wait it out?"

"No, that's not possible. Reapers and Hunters know well enough to avoid one another." Chris kept his voice low as he scanned the nearby trees and buildings for any sign of the Hunters.

"So then their target is us, isn't it?" Portia grit her teeth.

"Their target is you. And Roger. Or our food. Something like that." Chris' head snapped to the right, the Glutton letting out a shout as a dark figure hurtled from behind a car. It leapt straight at Portia, who cried out and fired off a shot from her rifle. The bullet caught the infected in the shoulder, the Hunter yelping and spinning away from her, disappearing again behind one of the abandoned vehicles on the road.

Roger levelled his gun at the car and let a shot go, the other two Hunters leaping from the trees across the road. One of them ran straight for the group, Charm letting out a shriek of warning with her claws at ready, and the other moved straight for the Reapers. This one was bigger than the others, the claws curling from it's fingertips a little longer and sharper, the growl that escaped from it's throat so deep it could be felt more than heard.

Opal shoved Gossamer out of the way, taking the pounce of the large Hunter, but Goss was on his feet in an instant and leaping onto the Hunter's back with his claws unsheathed and teeth bared.

Charm ripped into the second Hunter, the screams that surrounded the two infected almost enough to throw off Roger's aim as the first Hunter darted out from behind the car. One of Roger's shots went wild, the other hit the ground just on the heels of the infected as it leapt onto the hood of an abandoned truck. Spinning with the liquid grace all Hunter's possessed, the hooded demon leapt at Portia, the girl using the butt of her rifle to bat it away. When it hit the ground, Roger brought his gun up to finish it, Portia looking over his shoulder to see a fourth Hunter crouched in pouncing position.

"Roger!!" She shouted in warning, the Hunter she had knocked over rolling to it's feet and knocking her rifle out of her hands. She brought her hands up with a cry to try and protect herself, the Hunter howling in fury as it ploughed her to the ground, sharp claws digging into her clothing.

"Here come the scavengers!!" Chris shouted from somewhere as the fourth Hunter let out a pitiful yelp, Roger appearing above Portia and seizing the hood of the infected on her. He dragged it off as a Smoker's cry filled the air, Portia rolling to her feet with her heart pounding in her ears to help him finish it.

Charm had finished off her own Hunter, but the larger one was giving the twins a difficult time. It was stronger than a normal Hunter as well as being larger, and it's size had done nothing to take away the deadly speed the infected possessed. It was torn and bleeding, looking far more wounded than either of the Reapers, but Opal was starting to look worn down, half hiding behind Gossamer as the Hunter circled them.

The Smoker cried out again, Charm turning her attention to it while Chris joined the fray with the Reapers. The Witch let out a shriek of challenge, Portia straightening in time to see her shoot across the street. Claws appeared to be no burden to her when it came to climbing, the slender infected scaling the side of a truck and leaping at the balcony where the Smoker was perched. She scrambled up, growling ferociously at the taller infected before bringing her claws around and slamming them through the Smoker's throat.

Portia turned away from the scene, looking back over to where Chris was now grappling with the large Hunter, his face contorted in a grimace of effort. The Reapers had retreated, Opal bleeding from a deep wound on her arm.

"This is a gong show." Roger breathed, bringing his rifle around to aim at the Hunter.

"You could shoot Chris!" Portia protested.

"If I don't try, he's gonna get worn down too! We're not finished here yet, Portia, there are more of them where these came from!" Roger shouted, shrugging off the hand she put on his arm and taking aim again.

Chris saw the human's movement out of the corner of his eye, shifting his weight to try and turn the Hunter's back to Roger's rifle. The Hunter was straightened to his full height, Chris crouching to get a better grip on the ground, so there was plenty for Roger to aim at without too much fear of hitting the Glutton.

At least… that was what he hoped.

"Do it!!" Chris shouted, Roger's gun barking twice. The Hunter jerked, grunting in pain, blood spraying from it's mouth. Chris looked up into the Hunter's hooded face, seeing it's dark eyes widen in realization as it's grip began to grow slack. He didn't let go until the Hunter was on the ground, not willing to give it any chances, and once it was down, a well aimed fist to the head made sure it wasn't getting back up again. He glanced around hurriedly and got to his feet, moving towards the humans. "Where's Charm?"

"She took care of the Smoker." Portia replied, breath heavy. "She's up across the street!"

"We're going to have to get her back. You two, stay close to the Reapers!" Chris demanded, walking a few feet away and taking a breath. "No matter what happens, stay close to the Reapers."

"Chris…" Portia pleaded, Roger dragging her back towards the two wounded Reapers.

The Glutton looked over his shoulder and smiled. "Don't worry your pretty little head, Portia. I'm well fed today… there's very little chance that something's gonna go wrong." He murmured, doubling over with his arms around his waist, a groan of pain escaping him. With a series of sickening noises, bones shifting and skin stretching, the Glutton began to transform.


	9. Mending

Gossamer seized Portia's arm, drawing her attention away from Chris' transformation, the human girl shaking her head in confusion at the wild gestures the Reaper was offering her. "I don't understand!" She finally cried, Gossamer grabbing her head and turning her attention to something across the street.

"Oh… SHIT!" Roger hissed, following her gaze. Portia got to her feet, crawling up onto the hot hood of the car behind her as both Reapers rose as well. Roger settled next to Portia, both the humans raising their guns. Opal lifted her arm, drawing her tongue along the wound on it, her red eyes seeming to glow. "This isn't good."

"We've got it." Portia hissed through clenched teeth.

"That many of them?" Roger asked above the sudden bellow that escaped their Glutton friend nearby. "Are you SURE?!"

"We've got it!" Portia repeated, letting the first bullet fly as the horde in the parking lot across from them began tearing past, over and through the cars in the lot. One of the infected went down, it's head reduced to pink mist, and Roger stopped hesitating, opening fire himself.

As the two humans picked off the lessers charging towards them like fans at a Backstreet Boys concert, the Reapers raced forward to meet them, tearing through them as effortlessly as wild dogs in a rabbit hutch.

Chris turned his demonic face towards the horde, tensing when something shot past him like a red and white rocket. Charm, eyes throwing fire and claws dripping blood, threw herself into the horde from the side, beginning to shred through zombies with little effort.

"_Well, they're fine_." Chris grumbled, turning to look around, to make sure there were no other surprises waiting for them. He turned just in time to see the car that was flying towards him, the Glutton's eyes widening in horror. Drawing back one fist, he punched through the vehicle, being driven back a few feet from the force of it, opening his beady eyes to see the copper skinned giant rushing towards him with an eager grin on it's face. "_Oh, fuck me_…"

Reaching over, the Glutton seized one of the halves of the car, shifting backwards to get the other as Crusher continued to advance towards him. The others continued to thin out the horde behind him, though from the sounds of it, the zombies were running in terror now. Chris didn't blame them.

Throwing one half of the car, then the other in quick succession, Chris hoped to create himself an opening. He had to keep Crusher away from the rest of his pack, otherwise they'd all be dead meat. The first half of the car was batted away effortlessly by the charging giant, but the other half hit him in the face and staggered him, Chris moving forward with a roar to meet Crusher in battle.

Crusher smashed both fists into the road, the bellow that escaped him making the ground tremble so that Chris almost lost his footing. Shouts rose up from the rest of the pack, the humans both turning their guns on Crusher while the Reapers bolted to stop Charm from pursuing the rest of the horde.

As Chris moved towards Crusher, he picked up half of the car as he passed, using it as a bludgeoning weapon. The bullets peppering Crusher's heavy hide were enough to distract and annoy him, allowing Chris to hit him dead on with the wrecked vehicle. Teeth flew, bones cracked and Crusher let out a howl of pain, lashing out with one fist hard enough to send Chris flying. The Glutton ploughed through more vehicles, finally coming to a stop when he crashed into a light pole. Seeing stars in his vision, his control over the Glutton beginning to fade with the pain that was taking over, Chris got slowly to his feet, putting one hand to his head.

He saw that Crusher had turned his attention to the humans, Portia still crouched on the hood of the car while Roger was watching the Reaper's backs, the twins finally managing to capture the still livid Witch. Portia was taking careful aim at the furious and injured giant, Chris staggering forward a few steps to try and distract him long enough to keep him from reaching the girl.

Crusher bellowed in her direction, the sound dissolving into a frantic yelp of pain as the giant's head jerked back, more blood flying from his face. He reached up one massive hand and clapped it over the left side of his face, Chris quickly realizing what had happened.

Portia had fired…

Portia had hit home. The bullet had gone right through Crusher's left eye, blood leaking out the back of the giant's head where it had gone right through, and the beast was staggering to one side while letting out croons of pain.

"Chris!!" The girl shouted, the Glutton's head snapping to the side to look at her. "Change back, Chris!!"

"_Can't…_" Chris managed to grunt, shaking his head and backing away. He was too badly hurt now, and control was getting even harder. If he didn't get away, he might make a mistake.

"Don't run! We can still help you!" Portia pleaded. "C'mon, we're not far from the warehouse! We can take care of you there!"

Chris shook his head again, taking another step back. It was too risky… if he hurt any of them, he'd never forgive himself.

Opal was next to Portia now, putting her hand on the girl's arm and turning her eyes to Chris with an expression he couldn't quite identify.

"Please…" Portia breathed, fingers white knuckled on her rifle.

Chris looked around the group, seeing Gossamer tending to a trembling, weeping Charm and Roger loading something into his gun, face smeared with blood. When his eyes shifted back to Opal and Portia, the female Reaper nodded with the barest of smiles, Chris letting out a soft groan and collapsing to the ground.

It wasn't until his vision began swimming that he felt the sting of something sticking out of his arm. He could hardly believe it…

Someone had shot him.

…

…

…

Chris drifted in and out of consciousness for the next few hours. It was a long walk to the nearest safe room, another gas station in the parking lot of the Costco, and by the time they arrived, Opal was almost as weak as Chris was from blood loss.

"Chances are, that's the last we'll see of Crusher." Roger murmured quietly as he bandaged up a wound on Gossamer's leg. Portia was cleaning Opal's arm, a needle and thread she had found inside one of the packs laying on the floor next to her, and the girl's face was tight with concern.

"What a fucking cost to pay for it." She managed to say after a moment, picking up the needle and murmuring softly to Opal to reassure her it was going to be alright. The Reaper leaned up and nuzzled Portia's neck, settling back down with a sigh and a nod of understanding as the girl began to stitch the wound closed. It was hard, especially because the blood made the needle slippery, the soft hisses of pain that escaped Opal from time to time making Charm tense. The Witch seemed more on edge than she had been before, probably still stung about being dragged away from the lingering members of the horde. Gossamer nodded thanks to Roger and sat up, glancing over at the crumpled form of the Glutton near the back wall.

"The sedative was meant for horses… I dunno how long it will last on Chris. Gluttons can repair themselves pretty quick and Chris is a big guy." Roger murmured. He got several bottles of water from one of the coolers, the soft hum of it indicating that it was still running, then returned to Portia's side. "You want me to take over?"

"No." Portia replied simply, rubbing the back of her hand across her face and smearing it with blood. She was crying now, the tears mingling with the blood and filth on her cheeks, and the obscured vision she must have been experiencing was making it difficult for her to continue her work. "I got it."

"Lemme find some tissues, then." Roger murmured, heading into the small bathroom. There wasn't any paper towel left, but a roll of toilet paper on the back of one of the toilets would suffice, so he grabbed it and returned once again to the human girl. Gossamer was crouched near Chris, his back to the Glutton, his red eyes following Roger's movement with a curious light in them. "Here. It'll be better for both of you ladies if you can see what you're doing."

Portia allowed the older male to wipe her face clean with the tissues, laughing softly and shaking her head once he was done. "You must think I'm stupid, crying like this."

"I don't think so." Roger shrugged. "I think you're a woman, you're in distress, and you have every right to be weepy. If I got upset at a woman every time she got weepy, you really think I'd be able to put up with the crying machine over there by the door?"

Portia glanced at Charm, who was looking at them with a frown on her face, then shook her head and turned back to stitching Opal's wound. It was almost done now, and it looked horrible, but it was better than leaving it gaping the way it had been. Hopefully, Opal would be able to fend off any infection that might set in, since the work was far from sterile.

Roger used one of the bottles of water to clean up as much blood as he could, watching as Portia picked up her things and moved towards Chris. "Hey… what are you doing?"

"I'm seeing if he needs help." Portia replied, glancing over her shoulder. "He's one of us."

"Right now, he might tear your face off for breathing funny in his direction. You should keep your distance." Roger got to his feet, Opal tugging on his pantleg and making him look down. The Reaper scowled at him, shaking her head, then she began attempting to drag herself over to the Glutton as well. Roger sighed, dragging his hand through his hair. "You're both nuts."

"Or maybe we just offer him a little more trust than you." Portia shrugged.

"Yeah, maybe." Roger moved to the counter and leaned against it, drinking some of the water from the second bottle he had grabbed. He watched the two women fuss over the massive, unconscious infected and shuddered, wondering what was going to happen once Chris woke up.

"Let's move him into the back." He heard Portia say quietly to Opal, who nodded in agreement. They began dragging Chris' limp form across the floor, Gossamer helping them after a moment. When they had him in the storage room near the bathrooms, Roger went to see how things were working out. The room was small, but there was enough room for Chris to lay on the floor between the shelves, and if he woke up in a rage, they would have enough warning to get out before he got to them.

"Smart move, I suppose." He commented, Portia getting to her feet and smiling slightly. "Someone gonna stay here with him?"

"Opal volunteered. She's pretty damaged, but she's managed to get close to the Glutton before." Portia pushed her hair from her face. "I'm going to get cleaned up, as much as I can get cleaned up at least."

"Kay." Roger nodded, moving out of the way so she could get into the small woman's bathroom across the hall from the storage room. After a moment, he stepped into the room behind her, standing silently near the door and watching as she splashed her face with water.

"Hey… this is the girl's bathroom." Portia said in a thick voice after a moment, noticing him in the mirror. Roger smiled and shook his head, moving a little closer with a sigh. "You're not supposed to be in here."

"You need a shoulder, lady." The man murmured, putting his hands on Portia's arms. She turned away from the sink, water still dripping off her face, her lower lip wobbling slightly as she looked up at him. "And I've got two available."

There was a moment of hesitation, then Portia's face contorted, her arms snaking around Roger's torso. She pressed her face into his shoulder, nails digging in to the back of his shirt, her frame beginning to shake with the sobs that escaped her. Roger held her gently, rubbing her back and murmuring soft words of comfort, but he made no effort to stop her.

Right now, she needed this more than she would ever admit.

…

…

…

Author's Note!!

Remember, italics means infected speak!! Now things are starting to get interesting. ^.^ Hope you're all still enjoying!


	10. Dazed and Confused

Author's Note!!

So this chapter is a break from the battle… ready for some romance?

…

…

…

The Glutton was aware of something else in the room as soon as it woke up, eyes opening into darkness. There was a sliver of light coming from under the door, and the soft breathing of a figure close to him on the right seemed to fill the room.

Familiar breath… familiar warmth.

Of course. The Reaper. They had been in this sort of situation before, hadn't they? Had she rescued him this time? Or was it the other way around? His head was throbbing, the details were fuzzy, but he was sure his dim memories involved the beast, Crusher, a pack of Hunters and…

"Humans." He groaned, sitting up and putting a hand to his head. The Reaper at his side stirred, sitting as well and putting her hand over his. Normally, the Glutton didn't let others get this close without killing and eating them, but this Reaper…

She was different.

The Glutton had been close to humans, but he didn't feel like he had eaten heavily. Something must have happened, with the humans, to keep him from killing them. Had she stopped him? Had she shown mercy to the humans?

The Reaper sighed gently, pulling her hand from his and leaning closer. She pressed her face into the side of his neck, nuzzling him gently and letting out a strange noise.

A noise… the ever so silent Reaper let out a noise. A soft noise, followed by a growl, followed by a hiss. It seemed almost as if she were trying to say something to him. She drew her tongue up the side of his neck and repeated the series of noises, the Glutton tilting his head to the side.

She WAS trying to say something. It was… familiar.

A name, perhaps?

Yes… a name…

Chris. A name.

"My name." The Glutton said, a hoarse gasp escaping his throat as memories came flooding back to him. He let out a strangled noise of pain, his body beginning to change, and the Reaper remained close by his side as his bones shifted, his flesh seeming to melt and move like hot wax.

Yes, he WAS Chris. The Glutton was just a part of a bigger picture, a small voice at the back of Chris' mind, something he could control, something he could contain. The Reaper was his friend, the humans were too. He remembered now.

Howling in agony as bones that were broken shifted back into place, Chris clawed at the Reaper in desperation. She held him and hissed softly, the only way she really had of comforting him. Opal… his Reaper. His girl.

Blood splattered her white skin as he coughed it up, a product of the injuries he had received during the battle that was swiftly returning to him. He HAD fought Crusher, and was pretty sure he would have lost if it weren't for his friends.

The Glutton started fighting for control, sluggish and confused, but Chris wasn't about to let it get back out. Not now, when it was hungry and the only one around was Opal.

"O-oh G-god… it h-hurts…" He sobbed, clutching at his stomach as tears began to stream down his cheeks. More blood escaped his mouth, Opal using her shirt to wipe it away and hushing him gently. His injuries seemed more painful now that he was human again, but that was to be expected. If Crusher had been throwing his human body around instead of the Glutton's body, Chris wouldn't have been alive to witness the pitiful scene unfolding before him.

Opal offered him some water to clean his mouth out with, nuzzling him gently again in an effort to calm him and stop the tears that were falling. Chris spit out the first mouthful of water he took, then swallowed the second, realizing suddenly just how thirsty he was. He finished off the water, the Reaper taking the empty bottle from him and trying to urge him to lay back. Chris shook his head…

If he continued coughing up blood, he might end up choking on it. Things were starting to calm down, the aching beginning to dull and the sharp pain of his broken bones beginning to subside. He obviously wasn't going to be doing any changing anytime soon… His Glutton was going to have to stay in the back of his consciousness and he was going to have to fight to control it harder than ever.

Opal was very close, Chris able to make her out now that his eyes had adjusted to the lack of light. She was so pale in the darkness she almost seemed to glow. Her hand touched his cheek, thumb rubbing some of his tears away, then Chris felt warm breath against his lips.

Before he had a chance to prepare himself for what was happening, Opal pressed her mouth to his in a gentle kiss, pulling away to draw her tongue over his bottom lip. Chris took a breath in, hands moving to take her arms, then she shivered and pressed close to him, kissing him again. This one, he managed to return, moving one hand from her arm to her back.

It felt urgent, grateful and relieved all at once, Opal's tiny frame trembling as she pressed against him, her breath slightly quickened by something other than the kisses they were sharing. It took Chris a moment to recognize the reason…

This was Opal expressing in her own way just how scared she had been of possibly losing him. This was Opal telling him without words just how much he meant to her…

This was Opal showing him what he might have been missing if he had died out there.

Settling in Chris' lap with her knees on either side of his hips, Opal dragged half sheathed claws lightly over his head and face, lips parting in invitation. Chris obliged her, deepening the kiss and wrapping both arms around her, leaning so that his back rested against the shelf behind him. He slid one hand up the back of her shirt, a shiver running through her once more as he moved his hand over the bare flesh beneath the blood soaked fabric.

Truth be told, he had never done this before. He wasn't the sort of guy that had girls pawing at him or fighting to be with him, so he had never been given the opportunity to experience this sort of intimacy. If nothing else, it was a brilliant distraction.

Opal broke the kiss briefly, pulling her shirt off in one easy, fluid movement and pressing close to him again, Chris letting out a soft groan she drowned beneath another kiss. It was then that the door opened to reveal the pale figure of Opal's brother, the female Reaper jerking away and looking slowly over her shoulder.

Gossamer stood for a moment in the doorway with a stunned expression on his face, Opal's own expression turning almost murderous, then the male Reaper stalked across the floor of the storage room, seizing her arm in one hand and pulling her away from Chris. He bent down, picking up her shirt and throwing it at her while she hissed in his direction, both of them glaring at one another with blazing red eyes.

"Wait… what?" Chris asked in a dazed voice, attempting to get to his feet. Gossamer reached down, putting one hand on the Glutton's shoulder and forcing him to remain sitting, all without taking his eyes off of his sister. She hissed at him again, claws unsheathing, but Portia's arrival seemed to calm both the Reapers down.

"What's going on in here? You two can't fight in here, Chris is trying to recover." The human girl scolded, blinking slowly at Opal when she noticed that the Reaper wasn't wearing her shirt, simply clutching it to her bare chest. "Er… Gossamer… did you interrupt something?"

The Reaper nodded in reply, Opal baring her teeth at him, and Portia slowly put her hand to her forehead. "Okay, before tempers run away too badly here… Opal, Chris is VERY hurt, and doing that sort of thing might trigger the Glutton in his state, okay? You didn't think about that, did you?"

Opal stared at Portia, then looked down at Chris, then over at her brother, who gave her a look that very clearly said "duh!" Her pale cheeks flushed and she lowered her eyes, Portia moving to take her arm and pull her from the room while muttering hasty apologies to Chris. The Glutton looked up at Gossamer, who let out a short sigh and returned the larger infected's gaze. Turning to the door, the male Reaper departed, closing the door behind him without so much as a gesture of apology or farewell, leaving Chris in a rather frustrated state on the floor.

…

Roger looked over at the others when they came back into the main room, watching Opal finish pulling her shirt over her head and averting his gaze with red cheeks. He had to say… he hadn't been expecting that.

Gossamer came in after the other two, claws unsheathed and a rather heated look on his face, Roger moving to pat his shoulder. When the Reaper snapped at him, Roger pulled his hand away, blinking in shock. Standing back, the human watched the other male move across the small room to huddle near a window, then turned his gaze to Portia, who frowned in response to the Reaper's actions.

Living with Infected, no matter how smart or friendly they were, was difficult. Living with Infected who were smart, friendly and couldn't fucking well speak was impossible.

"We shouldn't stay too long. Once Chris is able to move, we should head into the warehouse." He called, Portia nodding at him. Opal looked over her shoulder at the human and nodded as well, but Gossamer pointedly ignored everyone in the room. Roger figured it was best to leave him be for now, moving to stand beside Portia. "I know we might run into some more fighting, but if we're not fighting with Crusher, we should be alright… right?"

"Yes." Portia nodded again, smiling in a fond manner at Roger. "If we manage our ammo well enough and make our shots count, we should be able to help. I'm not worried about the lessers that much… but I'm worried about those other Reapers that Charm smelled."

"As well we should be." Roger rubbed the back of his neck. "We might as well grab a bit of rest while we can."

"I'll stay up. I don't trust these two not to fight." Portia jerked her head towards the Reapers. Opal had taken the chance to escape during their conversation, now crouched in the corner next to her brother and staring at him defiantly.

"Probably for the best." Roger murmured, a hint of disappointment in his voice. It didn't go unnoticed, Portia glancing at him in surprise before he turned and began searching for a good place to lay down to rest. There wasn't much room in here, but it would have to do for now. They wouldn't be here much longer…

Roger began to count them all lucky for that. The air in here was so thick with tension, it was worse than the heat.


End file.
